


A House United

by Findecutie, MayGlenn



Series: Russ and Finno Verse [8]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, M/M, the wedding is finally here!, time for a party of Elven proportions, with royal wedding gifts cousinly shenanigans and a good time for all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 23:36:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 292,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4644291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Findecutie/pseuds/Findecutie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayGlenn/pseuds/MayGlenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After long years of their betrothal, the day before Fingon's and Maedhros' wedding day has arrived. For the moment, the branches of the Finwë's house are all united in joy and celebration. </p><p>Wedding craziness ensues, followed by a beautiful celebration, a party, and the newlyweds' escape to the mountains and the valley where, long ago, each realized that his unrequited love for his best friend was, in fact, deeply requited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Fingon could not maintain a straight face, even for half a minute. Each time he tried to straighten his mouth the corners of it tugged upwards. “Finno!” Aredhel hit his arm lightly. “Stop smiling. You’re going to wear your face out and be incapable of making a decent expression during the actual ceremony!”

“I couldn’t.” Fingon’s grinned widened. “Not even possible. I’m so… someday you’ll have this, Irissë. This is perfect. This is everything. I’ll be smiling for the next year!” He laughed gaily, shifting from foot to foot in delight.

Anairë laughed quietly as she tugged at the fabric adorning her son, trying to decide if it needed to be adjusted slightly. They were doing a final fitting before the ceremony tomorrow, and he was in ‘his’ half of the chamber, separated from his betrothed by a white curtain as their mothers fussed over them and cast a critical eye on raiment and jewelry. Fingon found himself quietly jealous of Aredhel as she moved from side to side, getting an early look at both Maedhros and Fingon in their wedding garments.

"Well at least their faces will match when they end up stuck like that," Maglor, who was adjusting Maedhros' collar, called across the divide. "My brother looks a fool," he teased.

"Nonsense, your brother looks very handsome. I'd be more concerned that Findekáno will faint tomorrow when he sees this." Nerdanel was assessing Maedhros with that look she gave a not-quite-perfect-yet sculpture, and it made him nervous. "Now where is Turukáno with that blue thread?"

"Actually, mother, I fear more that I might faint tomorrow. I am already nervous," Maedhros admitted.

“Amil?” Anairë moved to stand in front of her son at his soft call. “Could you--ah--” he blushed, and stepped forward, pulling a dark wood box from his bag, with red wood and gold designs in it. “Could you give this to Russandol? It’s for the wedding.”

Maedhros grinned as his aunt crossed the divide between them and held out a dark wooden box, carved with the Fëanorian star Fingon was so proud of carving. Maedhros reached out for it, but Nerdanel hissed: "Hold still, I'm sewing your sleeve," so Maglor took it.

Eyeing the box, Nerdanel nodded approvingly. "I still have plans to make you a sculptor, Finno," she said as she went back to her needle and thread.

“Russ?” Fingon called. “What do you think?” He rolled his shoulders, enjoying the freedom of movement while Anairë was in the other half of the room, shushing Aredhel as she giggled. "And you're too kind, aunt. I haven't the talent--I just dabble a little. The box is nowhere near what you can do, though I did try. But thank you. Now what does Russ think? Does my gift meet with your approval, betrothed?" He rolled from his heels to toes again, glancing at the opaque curtain keeping Maedhros from him.

Once he was allowed, Maedhros took the box with shaking hands. Gifts from Fingon still thrilled him in a way he hoped would never go away. Opening it, "Oh, Finno!" he cried, gazing in awe at the golden cuff bracelet set with blue stones and intricately careve. "Amil, you must have been training him, look!" he beamed, wanting to rush past the curtain, and would have but for Maglor's grip on his arm. "Findekáno, _why_ did you give this to me now?" he complained. "Aunt, will you give a return gift to your son?"

Anairë smiled softly, her hand on her belly. "Of course, Maitimo. What is it?"

Maedhros leaned forward and kissed her softly, silently on the cheek, so Fingon wouldn't know.

She laughed and made her way back to the other side of the curtain as Maglor took the jewel and arranged it over his sleeve.

“Because I’m wearing your gold wires tomorrow. And I… I suppose I wanted to give you something extra for tomorrow.” He grinned at Aredhel as she gave him a quick hug and thumbs up. He mouthed a thank you to Anairë as she returned.

“And what did my brother’s betrothed send in return for such lovely craftwork?” Aredhel asked with a smile.

Grinning as if in on a terribly funny joke, Anairë stood up on her toes to kiss her son on the cheek, and pulled back with a bright twinkle in her eye.

“Thank you melda,” Fingon called over to his lover. “I’d give you something in return, but I’m not comfortable giving it by way of someone else. Remind me later?”

Aredhel snorted and Anairë swatted the back of her head. “Alright, enough playing around. Nerdanel, dear, could you come over here and take a look at the way this is draping on the back? I want to make sure they match when they’re standing together and I’m not quite… sure…” Fingon quelled his fidgeting as his mother began tugging at his clothing again, and stuck his tongue out at Aredhel. His sister returned the action and skipped around the barrier to Maedhros’ half of the room.

Nerdanel got to her feet and slipped around the curtain, measuring by sight: "Well, we need to adjust for height," she said, tugging Fingon's hem slightly tighter, and returned quickly to lower Maedhros'. "There, that should be about even--" she hummed to herself, stepping back by the curtain so she could view both of them at once. "Yes, good. And just in time!" she cried as Turgon entered, breathless, with a small bag:

"I have the blue thread, and it's the right red this time," he said, doling out spools of thread to the respective sides of the tent.

Maedhros clenched his fists and strove to remain still, though he kept stealing glances down at his wrist and the jewel there. He never would have thought that standing still all day would be so exhausting.

“How is everything else going, Turyo?” Fingon asked. “Are people arriving? And is the setup going smoothly? Has grandfather locked himself in the library?” His mouth twitched at the memories that thoughts of Finwe’s library evoked.

“As well as can be expected, they’re starting to, and… fairly smoothly?” Anairë looked at Turgon as he made the last answer into a question.

“Fairly?”

Turgon nodded. “Things seem to be going well, amil, until they don’t. Some of the decorations weren’t staying the way they should have, and Turukáno’s--” he cut himself off. “Ah, nevermind. We just have to wait a little longer. I’m sure Turko will get them together correctly.”

“Get _what_ together correctly?”

“Nothing! Everything’s going smoothly. Perfectly. In fact, I’d better make sure everything keeps going smoothly.”

Maedhros grimaced, glad he had waited to pack...certain items himself, before letting Celegorm loose on packing their saddlebags. Unless, of course, Turgon was referring to setting up at the cabin, of which Celegorm, Caranthir, and Aredhel had been in charge.

"Thank you, Turukáno," he said as Turgon ran from the room again.

“Alright… I think we’re jut about… there!” Anairë walked a full appraising circle around Fingon.

“Done?”

“With the clothing. I’m trusting that your jewelry will fit as well as you say it will. And I suppose Irissë needn’t bother putting up your hair today. It will take long enough to do tomorrow.” Fingon sighed in relief.

“Done!” He called happily. “I win, Russandol!”

Nerdanel snorted. "You weren't waiting on thread!" Maedhros called. But his mother's stitches were clean and quick, and the cloak was soon in place.

"There," she said. "How would you like your hair tomorrow?"

Maedhros shrugged, smiling at his mother and his brother. "I could do it."

"I'll do it," Maglor offered. "If Irissë's doing Fin's, I feel it's my duty."

“Are you getting undressed yet, Russ? I’m not supposed to see you if you’re clothed. Ow! In wedding garments Rissë, you perv! You knew what I meant!”

“They sound just like you and Turko,” Maglor muttered to Maedhros.

“Irissë! You have an unfair advantage. I can’t risking pulling or tearing this!” Fingon removed the garments as quickly as he could, grabbing his own clothing to pull it on and remove a tempting target from his little sister’s nimble, tickling fingers.

Maedhros scoffed. "Turko and _I_ do not sound like that. Our arguments are shorter," and more violent, he didn't add. Nerdanel nodded at him and she and Maglor helped him begin to disrobe, and she carefully stowed the wedding garments in their wardrobe as Maedhros pulled on his normal clothes, which now felt soft and inviting after the formal restriction of his wedding clothes. And now he was imagining Fingon ripping these clothes off of him and--and he had to stop. "Am I free now, amil?"

Nerdanel laughed. "Well, you are until Turyo finds you. But I'll expect you home by the mingling of the Lights. You know you cannot see each other the day of the ceremony."

Maedhros laughed. "It's been a while since I've heard that one." But he dipped his head. "I promise."

At Nerdanel’s dismissal, Fingon ducked under the curtain, past his aunt, and pulled his lover into a warm embracing and a smiling, laughing meeting of lips and tongue. “Betrothed,” he greeted warmly. “I’m cold without your arms around me, and the world grows dim without your light. Even a few yards away, listening to your voice I miss you.”

Aredhel stopped suddenly, grimacing at the soppy talk. She gave up her attack, and returned to help her mother, pulling back the curtain that had been dividing the room.

Maedhros wound his arms around Fingon and pulled him into a deep kiss. "I'm already missing you after we part tonight. I won't sleep a wink. Come, let's go before they find something else for us to do!" he said, taking Fingon's hand and fleeing.

"I'd use the window," Nerdanel suggested, and laughing, Maedhros hopped out, holding out his arms to Fingon.

Fingon gave his aunt a grateful kiss and jumped out, into Maedhros’ arms. “Love you,” he whispered. “Love you so much, Russ. My husband to be. By this time tomorrow we’ll be married…can you believe it? I _ache_ for you Russandol. Fëa and hröa alike. I want to address you as husband, and my fëa yearns for that as much as my body does for your touch.” He pulled back, hand winding in Maedhros’ hair in a familiar, grounding motion. “Where shall we run off to, betrothed?”

"Not far. I worry they might really need us," he said, but took Fingon's hand and sprinted to the large mallorn tree down by the brook, and once they rounded the tree, he pressed Fingon against its trunk and swallowed down a hungry, demanding kiss. "Oh, I thought I was going to go mad in there. So close, yet so far--it's like now. We're so close to being wed, but it seems like tomorrow will never come, and it will be worse when I am parted from you tonight." He fell against Fingon, holding their bodies together entirely, and kissed him again.

“I know,” Fingon moaned. “I can’t wait… and yet…” he blushed and looked away, though his hands moved to pull Maedhros’ closer still, and held to him as though he were the only stable thing in a shifting world.

"Yet?" Maedhros chased, cupping Fingon's chin in his hand.

“Um… aren’t you…?” Fingon hesitated a second time, worrying his bottom lip and dropping his eyes to the grass below them. “But then, I suppose you wouldn’t have a reason to be,” he murmured to himself.

Maedhros stepped back, blinking carefully. "Wait, what? Finno, my love, arimelda, what is it?" His brow wrinkled, and he bent down so he could look Fingon directly in the eye.

Fingon flushed hotly. “Nothing. I want this so desperately. Nothing will ever change that.” He twisted his fingers in Maedhros’ hair. “It’s a little frightening, though. You’ll _see_ me, Russ. Every part of me. And I _know_ I don’t deserve you.” He brought his free hand to Maedhros’ lips to still the coming protest. “There’s not an Elda on Arda who does. But you’ll see that, too, when we bond. And it’s terrifying.” He turned at met Maedhros’ gaze. “But I wouldn’t give this up for anything. Not unless you changed your mind and wanted me to. It’s… it’s jumping off a cliff together, I suppose, and trusting we’ll soar.”

Maedhros was caught between laughing and crying at Fingon's openness and concern. "Ai, Findekáno," he said, bundling him up into his arms. "The only thing our bonding will reveal is that _you_ are the worthiest, the one I do not deserve." He kissed Fingon deeply. "I will see you, on the inside; and you will see me, and it won't be frightening but wonderful, because I trust that you will love me for my true self, in spite of my flaws, and so I will love you in turn. Does not that sound like perfection?"

“It does. Of course it does.” He snuggled closer. “Tomorrow is the most important day of our lives. Please forgive me for being a little nervous.” He kissed Maedhros’ jaw. “And I beg your pardon, but you’re wrong, beloved. You are the best person I’ve ever known, my light and my future. And you are most worthy.” He kissed Maedhros’ softly, then pulled back with a laugh. “Can you believe we got out of there? I think I got a workout just _standing_. That was ridiculous! You had best shine in your wedding clothing tomorrow, for it to have been worth all that fuss!”

Maedhros smirked. "You, too," he said, holding Fingon close until he could feel no trace of fear or trembling in him. "I'm nervous, too," he admitted. "Nervous your beauty will make me forget the words I'm supposed to say. Nervous I'll move the wrong way and rip my clothes. Nervous we might encounter opposition, or one of the horses will go lame on the way to the peak, or--well--a thousand little things--but I know at the end of it that you will be mine, and I will be yours, and we will be bonded, and nothing else is quite so worrisome."

Fingon sighed. “Yes. That last part. No matter what happens--and given this family _something_ will happen--we will be bonded, and it will be perfect.” He kissed the tip of Maedhros’ nose. “What shall we do for the next few hours until you’re torn from my arms and hidden away?”

"Swimming. Or stay here kissing. Or run away further and lie naked in the grass. I don't care, I just want to be with you." He kissed along Fingon's neck where he had him pinned to the tree.

“May I be exceptionally selfish right now?” Fingon traced his lover’s face with gentle fingers. “After this I won’t see you until the wedding… and then there’s the reception, and then we have hours upon hours of riding before we reach our destination. And I very much want to fulfill your dream of bonding under the stars in our valley. So… if I were to choose I would lie in the grass pressed against your skin, even if all we do is hold each other and kiss. Because after this we will have to go without that for what I’m sure will feel like far too long.” He slid his hands to his lover’s shoulders and squeezed gently, closing his eyes as Maedhros' lips moved across his skin. “Would this please you, my prince?”

"Mm, of course," Maedhros said. "It is as if we are bonded already, for I was hoping you would say this." Nipping lightly at his shoulder, he stepped back, taking Fingon's hand again. "Let us run until we cannot run any further, and there we will lie." He was already pulling Fingon along with him.

Fingon ran with him, smile stretching across his face as they raced across their grandfather’s fields. He squeezed Maedhros’ hand, and laughed in jubilation as Maedhros squeezed back, and for the moment this was all he could need or want in the world.

When they finally stopped, Fingon rolled onto his back and pulled his betrothed on top of him. “Mmm. Love this. Comfy?”

"On you? Of course," Maedhros replied, crashing their lips together as if he could never get enough. "Uhh, Finno," he groaned, frustrated. "I need you so. I want you so much." He began pulling at Fingon's tunic, shoving it over his head to reveal more skin to kiss.

Fingon rolled his hips up into his lover, tugging at Maedhros’ shirt as well. “Russ,” he muttered, arching into his lover’s touches. “Need you, too. After spending all morning dressed in gold and silver thinking of our bonding I _need_ you.”

"And I need you," Maedhros gasped, fumbling with laces and clasps to bare them both. "All morning all I could imagine, all I could think of was you tearing those robes off me, like you were liberating me from thralldom." He nibbled Fingon's ear, grinding against his body.

“Russ--can’t think about that. Otherwise I don’t know how I’ll survive the journey to our valley. But once we’re there--oh!” He gasped softly as Maedhros succeeded in releasing him, and managed to flip them so that he straddled his lover’s waist. He reached down to hold them both in a firm grip and squeezed, looking at Maedhros. “Once we’re there Russ, everything you want, anything you can think of, we’ll do. Ask, or, when the bond is complete,” Fingon eyes fluttered shut at the image that provided, “but desire a thing and I will move mountains if needed to give it you.”

Maedhros chewed his lip and bucked up into Fingon's touch, laying his own hand over Fingon's. "Oh. Yes. Yes, I don't--I don't know how we'll wait, either. We'll kill the horses riding there if our desire was all that mattered. And after our fea are bonded, nothing in all the world can tear us asunder."

Fingon keened. “Russ. Oh, yes Russplease! Tighter. Feel--” Fingon arched against him. “Love you. And I can’t wait until tomorrow. The closer we get the more time slows…” He leaned down, diving in for a deep, thorough kiss.

Maedhros responded by flipping them back over and stroking them roughly together. They had been teased all morning, and their hearts were still pounding like their blood from the run, so they were very near, and neither had any interest in prolonging this. "Tell me more about tomorrow," he demanded, leaning close to whisper hot in his ear.

“What would have me say?” Fingon jerked against his lover’s hand, breath hitching. “Should I tell you what you’ll look like as we enter the chamber together? I’ll hardly be able to walk straight, for as soon as we are both in the room my eyes will be ever wandering to you. And during the reception… it’s been a long time since we’ve danced together, love. I look forward to it.” Fingon quieted as Maedhros demanded the use of his mouth for a time, panting heavily when they parted. He scratched down Maedhros’ back with a moan. “Or do you want to hear about later? About how- how beautiful you’ll look on top of me? H-how I’ll cling to you as you enter me? How I’ll plead with you for more, and more?”

"Yes, that," Maedhros panted, stroking them quicker and harder. "And I'll give it to you, and you won't even have to ask. Cling to me now, melindo, hold me like I know you will," he begged. "Close. Together."

Fingon moaned between fervent kisses and wrapped his arms around Maedhros. He clung to him, and where Fingon could not pull Maedhros down he pulled himself up instead, moving as close as he could with Maedhros' hand still between them. "Yes," he gasped with a hitched breath. "Together. Always. Want to get closer still, Russ. I'll rake my nails down your back and press myself to you as though we might sink into each other and mold together. Close now, though. Oh! Russ--don't want this to end."

"Well I do," Maedhros growled, biting down on Fingon's neck. "Come for me, come with me, now," he demanded, twisting his hand and rocking their bodies together, his breath hot on Fingon's throat, breathing in the scent of his hair.

Fingon nodded, hips rising and pressing into Maedhros' grip. Caught on the edge, he found he had something more, a small glimpse of a fantasy to offer up to his lover. "So close. Almost, almost... Russ? Did you--ahh--did you want me to speak to you as I will, as well as hold you? Would you have me beg?" Fingon closed his eyes as though lost in a dream, hands still clutching his lover to him as he began stuttering on the crest of completion, too far gone to back down but for a few seconds able to keep from falling into release. "Please-- please Russ," he moaned, voice starting almost silent and steadily growing. "More," he breathed, and then growled. "Harder. Deeper! Please melda, oh please my husband!” His voice broke on the address, and he almost sobbed. “Want all of you. Need you in me. With me. On me. Want everything you're willing to give me. Russandol! Come for me." Fingon's eyes flew open at the last, which was uttered in earnest rather than in fantasy, and he keened a wavering, desperate note. "Pleaaaaase!"

Maedhros shouted with his lover as they spent together, mind driven to distraction with Fingon's words, such that he was unable to respond--and for a fleeting second he felt deeply, deeply cheated that they were not yet bonded, that Fingon could not hear the meaning of his screams, the depth of his love and his need--but it passed, and his mind went white, anyway, and he crested and fell, his hand working as if it didn't belong to him, finishing them both, and finally he collapsed against his lover, gasping for air.

“Russ. Russandol.” Fingon kissed his betrothed, hands half releasing his cousin to trace patterns into his skin, idly brushing along his back and sides. “I love thee,” he whispered, and as he caught his breath he pushed Maedhros over and straddled him, giving him a brief kiss before sliding down his body lapping at their mingled seed until he was low enough to take his cousin’s softening shaft into his mouth. He cleaned it with wet suction that bordered on too much, and let Maedhros pop from his mouth, looking up at his lover with a grin. “Do you remember when we were first together, arimeldanya? And you weren’t going to let me do this? You thought it would, ah, dirty me to take you in my mouth.” He gave a final broad swipe of his tongue before beginning to inch his way back up Maedhros’ body. “And all I wanted was to take you into myself and to bring you pleasure and release.”

Maedhros' eyes lidded as Fingon took him in his mouth, with no other purpose than to clean him, and it was filthy but it was also beautiful. His breath hitched and he laughed: "You've since worn down my resolve," he said. "Not that I ever had much defense against you. I love you so deeply, Findekáno. Thank you for choosing me." He wrapped his arms around his lover and held him close, fingers ghosting the tiny white scar on his right shoulder.

“Always. Forever. Undoubtedly and without question.” Fingon nuzzled against his cousin’s neck, enjoying the play of Maedhros’ fingers on his skin. “You are my one, my only. There has never been and will never be any other but you. Tyë-melin, arimeldanya. Tenn’ ambar-metta.”

"Tyë-melin," Maedhros replied. They lay in companionable silence for some time, and Maedhros began humming what would come to be their song. The treelight changed, warming their naked skin, and Maedhros spun his arms around Fingon.

“This is nice,” Fingon eventually said. “We should do this at some point after the wedding-- just find a nice meadow, and lie in one another’s arms and watch one another and the sky.” He pressed his lips to Maedhros’ shoulder. “Will you remind me, remind us, when we’re in our valley? Or perhaps at the cabin you can make hot cocoa again and we can go to the roof and watch the stars.”

"Both, everything, forever," Maedhros declared, pulling Fingon to him and kissing him. "I imagine this will be at least half of our honeymoon. The other half, of course, spent in more physical activities," he grinned wickedly.

Fingon twitched in discomfort as his body tried to respond to Maedhros’ words. “You’re going to wear me out before the wedding,” he whispered with a pleased look. “Oh, my dearest Russandol. I feel so close to you already. But it will be like doing everything for the first time again--be it lying like this or doing more physical activities. And I look forward to both.” He nudged Maedhros lightly. “Half… that’s quite a bit of time--I wonder just what you have in mind. I remember your vision of us chasing each other through the valley. May I ask you for another fantasy or daydream of yours? Something we might do during our trip?”

Maedhros huffed, coloring slightly. Holding Fingon close, he looked to the heavens and thought carefully, not wanting to reveal too much. "Well I still owe you--or rather you owe me--a king for a day." He grinned.

“Cheater,” Fingon whispered, but he lay his head on his lover’s shoulder and seemed content with anything Maedhros wanted to suggest.

"Well I'll keep you on edge all day," he said. "I like you desperate. I'll have you begging me to allow you to finish--until I want you begging me to not make you come again. And that's not even mentioning the, ah, toys I will be bringing with me."

“Ruuuuss!” Fingon ground himself against Maedhros, beginning to harden painfully. “Russ! Oh, you’re a horrible, terrible ner.” He shifted uncomfortably, and snuck a hand between them, delving down until he could prod teasingly at his betrothed’s opening. “Just remember…payback is a guarantee when you do something like that.”

Maedhros squeaked and bucked against the intrusion, though he grinned and blushed. "Oh, I am counting on it," he admitted, pulling Fingon back on top of him to kiss him filthily.

Fingon let his lover pull him down, and promptly attached himself to Maedhros’ neck, worrying the skin gently and kissing as roughly as he could without leaving marks that would be visible at the wedding. “Good then,” he said, tilting his head up to look Maedhros in the eyes. “It’s a promise.” And he pressed with his fingers, just barely breaching Maedhros and letting a fingertip rest inside him. “Like that?” he asked quietly.

Maedhros grunted, a rather unlovely sound, and went suddenly pliant, and nodded, pressing his lips together to keep more sounds from escaping. His heart fluttered. "Yes--uhhnn, please," he finally managed, snatching at a kiss.

“You’re lovely when you’re begging, arimelda,” Fingon murmured. He bent to kiss the tip of Maedhros’ nose, and then nipped at his lover’s bottom lip. “And when you’re soft and pliant in my arms. I like to hear you, though--you shouldn’t hide such beautiful sounds.” He twisted the finger inside his betrothed, pressing a little deeper before withdrawing it. “Would you like more? Or did you just want to relax?” Fingon was grinding down against Maedhros already, and his interest in present events went without saying.

Maedhros nodded, clamping down on the noises he wanted to make before Fingon's words properly caught up to him. He squeaked and closed his eyes, hips twitching. "Yes, more," he forced out. "Please?" But as Fingon struck that spot inside him: "Ai, Fin, w-want--" and here he choked on things he couldn't have yet.

“What do you want?” Fingon asked quickly, comfortingly. He wet his fingers, careless of where they had just been, and returned them to his lover’s body, circling his entrance playfully before pressing into the quivering flesh. “Tell me, my betrothed; even if you want things we cannot have for o-one more day, tell me?” He pressed his lips to his lover’s cheek and leaned close to his ear. “Didn’t I just tell you, darling? Didn’t I just close my eyes and _imagine_ and let you hear?”

It took a few false starts--couldn't Fingon _see_ how much he wanted this?--but Maedhros finally managed words: "Want you to fuck me, um. Hard." His breath hitched and legs kicked.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you,” Fingon murmured, gently stroking along Maedhros’ thighs and sides in a practiced, comforting gesture. He sat heavier on Maedhros’ waist to try to still him. “I’ve got you, arimeldanya. Can you tell me more about what you want?” He crooked his finger and rubbed continually at an area inside his lover that had Maedhros’ jerking and gasping. “Or, if you absolutely cannot, just tell me what you want now and anything I can give you shall be yours.” He kissed Maedhros languidly, regaining his steady, thrusting motion along his lover’s front. “But I should dearly love to hear more about this hard fucking that you would like.” He bit his lip before pronouncing the f giving it an aspirated emphasis, and could swear he felt Maedhros’ pulse jump as he pronounced the word.

Maedhros swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. He whined, but "L-like this, on my back, exposed to you, and--" he keened, "and you could maybe bite and, and tell me when you wanted me to--to--" he wasn't sure he could say it. It was different like this: the same things aroused him, but he couldn't quite voice them. No doubt he was still hung up on things he shouldn't be, and that only made him more ashamed. He was almost wild with desire already, and the heat on his face didn't help.

“Hush, darling. It’s alright--you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Fingon touched Maedhros’ cheek lightly with his free hand, leaning his weight on his elbow, and began to kiss his lover again slowly, deeply, and in time with the movements of his hips and the thrusts of his fingers. “I love you so much, arimeldanya. My perfect Russandol, I cannot believe what the sight of you does to me.” Fingon shook his head in amusement, and leaned in again. Deep inside, however, he felt a hint of loss, suddenly envisioning their wedding night and, sometime later, the first time he would enter Maedhros. Because by the time he did, he imagined there would be no need to gently coax words from his lover. By then they would be bonded, and everything would be different--he imagined nothing would be quite so impossibly new as when Maedhros first took him. Not that he would give up that first time with Maedhros in him for anything. He pushed the thoughts from his mind, squirming atop Maedhros and focusing on his lover’s body, his hitching breaths and sporadically kicking legs as he tried to bring him to completion.

Maedhros shook his head: he wanted to get this out. "Want--want you to own me, rule me. As you rule over my heart," and now his kinks and his love sounded strange together. "I-it feels good," he whispered, swallowing hard, "you feel good."

Fingon’s next kisses were wordless thank yous. He lowered himself against Maedhros’ chest, pressing against him as much as he could in their current positions. “I promise. Of course, melda! You are mine as I am yours, remember? I’ll own you as you own me and let you relax in my arms. All you’ll have to do is allow yourself to be pleasured--I’ll take care of all else. Will that please you?” He twisted the fingers inside Maedhros. “I greatly desire that Russ. As ever, your wishes are my own. Are you close, arimelda? If you are, I’d like you to put your hand around us again, and help us finish.”

Maedhros' breath hitched, and he nodded. He was impossibly close. "Close, yes," he whispered, nodding quickly. "I--and I would like that, as you say." He hissed and bucked, taking hold of them in one hand. "Right there, right there!"

Jerking in Maedhros’ hand, Fingon focused his fingers on the stop inside Maedhros that was generating such beautiful sounds. “Yes, melda. Right there. As much as you can take. I… I can’t even… _Russ_! Oh. Please, don’t want to finish without you. Hurry.” He leaned down to kiss Maedhros, but this time pulled his mouth away teasingly, waiting until Maedhros pressed up against him before opening his mouth and granting his lover entrance. And before long -this was Maedhros’ power over him- he found himself drawing near the edge again, whimpering softly and hips rolling against his lover’s.

"Tell me," Maedhros begged, hand working, hips going, "tell me when--I could spend on your word."

“Fu-Russ!” Fingon bit the word out. “P-perhaps I should order you not to, then, just to keep things i-interesting.” Fingon raised his head enough to brush their noses together, looking Maedhros in the eye. “But we’ll have weeks to play,” he murmured. “Ready for this, ready for you. And it’s been… so many years my betrothed. I’m ready for this for real. But for now… since I enjoy being kind to you-- and no biting back those glorious sounds of yours… Russandol. Come.”

It sounded like Celegorm calling Huan to heel, and as degrading as it was, it was erotic. He spent with a cry, howling Fingon's name to the sky, with an abandon hitherto fore unheard from his lips for any reason. His hand pumped them together though he no longer understood the meaning or purpose. Fingon was everything to him, but in this moment Maedhros was the coveted gem and Fingon the craftsman, Maedhros was the believer and Fingon was the deity. And it was glorious and safe like this, and this feeling Maedhros wanted to last forever.

“Oh Russ,” Fingon whispered in awe. His eyelids fluttered as he raced over the edge after his lover. Maedhros’ entire body seemed to be reaching for him and turning to him, and Fingon whimpered at how perfectly his lover obeyed. He kept thrusting with his fingers, drawing out his lover’s pleasure and delighting in the way Maedhros’ tightened around him spasmodically. “My Russandol,” he breathed as their bodies eventually relaxed, and Fingon stretched out his legs to blanket Maedhros entirely, shifting to lie comfortably over his cousins’ form. “Love you like this,” his whispered to his dazed lover. “Love the sounds you make and the way you come apart at my command. Valar, Russ… the things we’ll do together once we are wed.” He quieted, fingers running through Maedhros’ hair as he relaxed and thought of such wonderful things.

It took a few moments before his body could do anything but whine and twitch helplessly, but when he could he wrapped his arms around Fingon and pulled him into a tight hug. "Don't want to be parted from you," he admitted softly, in a moment of weakness.

Fingon squeezed him tighter. “I’ll never leave you,” he whispered. “And if we must be separated for some short time, I will come find you, or wait for you to find me. Forever, Russ. That’s what I promise you. Tye-melin tenn’ ambar-metta and beyond time itself.” He leaned in to trail kisses across Maedhros’ jaw, smiling at his cherished lover.

Maedhros nodded, comforted instantly by his words and his presence. He pressed his face into Fingon's hair and said nothing, too blissed to think of anything to say but, "Thank you," and, "and I will never leave you."

“Good,” Fingon whispered. “Love you.” He sighed and lay his head on Maedhros’ chest, relaxing fully against him. “What next, beloved? What else would you like to do on our last day as betrothed princes?”

Maedhros shrugged. "As long as I am with you, I am unbothered." He traced fingers over Fingon's skin, the perfection mesmerizing. "Why did we schedule our wedding in the evening? It's that much longer that I have to be parted from you." He wrapped his arms around Fingon and rolled on top of him. "We could eat supper at my parents', if you're hungry. Or whatever. What did you want to do, love?"

“Anything.” Fingon shook his head. “Well, anything where I’m with you. And if we can be touching that would be preferable. It’s… it’s just a few hours, Russ, and then we’ll have _everything_ … why does it suddenly feel like so long a parting?” He shifted, stretching with a yawn before shaking himself. “Doesn't matter what we do, love. I like this--the grass under me," he smiled, "and you on top of me."

"It's perfect," Maedhros said, kissing Fingon on the nose. "And I think I will manage to delay my gratification, knowing I will possess you entirely this time tomorrow."

Fingon snorted softly, tucking back a fallen strand of Maedhros’ hair. “You’ve always been far more disciplined than I,” he said softly. “Though I hope you take what I say as a sign of my need for and utter devotion to you, rather than a sign of an inability to control myself.” He couldn’t stop touching his lover--hair, face, back, the place did not matter as long as he could feel his cousin warm and strong under his hands.

Maedhros huffed. "I lived too long trying to deny my love for you. When I think I have waited thirty years of the trees for you, one day does not seem so bad." He kissed Fingon's palm. "We could also steal dinner from grandfather's kitchen and eat it somewhere alone."

“Thirty years,” Fingon repeated, focusing on the first half of Maedhros’ statement. He would have been… Valar. “Russandol-- I’m so sorry.” Because assumed unrequited love was never fun. And given how much guilt Maedhros carried over _everything_ , being in love with his twenty year old cousin would have been horrifying. He hugged Maedhros close. “Russ--you know it’s only ever been you, right? Since I first felt the stirrings of desire I’ve only _ever_ wanted you. Even back then, though I dared not share such feelings with you. You were--are still--my everything. And I had no desire to burden you with your little cousin’s, your best friend’s love, however strongly felt.” He pressed their lips together. “And either option for dinner would be wonderful.”

Maedhros shrugged, and just hugged Fingon closer. "And I, you. If ever I looked at another it was only to try to spare you. I loved you too young, and I--well, you make it better that you loved me too, and love me still now grown--but it doesn't make my feelings right." He teared up at Fingon's words and kissed him. "The point is purely academic now, of course," he forced a laugh and lifted his head. "I think I would rather just be with you, tonight, so we must execute a plan to steal something for supper without anyone spying us."

Fingon wanted to protest strongly, but he hesitated at starting a fight the night before they were wed. When he spoke it was with a soft response, though one that he hoped might make Maedhros feel slightly better. “I should be wounded that you think my feels were not right,” he murmured. “For if your feelings were wrong then, surely mine were even worse being twenty and finding myself in love with my teacher, my protector, my older cousin. And even if the ages would not have been right… I had no idea you loved me so. I never realized, Russ, so how could you have done anything wrong?” Fingon sighed, and turned his thoughts to dinner as he clung tightly to Maedhros. “Ambarussa,” he exclaimed, grinning widely, and his lover stared at him. “Russ, with the wedding coming up, this is the perfect time to ask for a favor and have them just roll it into part of the wedding present! We just have to get ahold of them and one or both can sneak into the kitchens and abscond with our dinner.”

"You are not wrong in anything: I was older and should have known better." Maedhros shrugged. "But what is love if not something wholly out of our control? Anyway tomorrow it will all be remedied. And we might even look back on this and consider our mutual purity as a beautiful thing, and ignore ages. We might lie to our nieces and nephews," he said with a grin, and kissed Fingon. "Yes. Ambarussa. They would appreciate being put to such a task--and I think they were playing in grandfather's garden. Should we dress?" He sat up and cast about, sorting out their clothes that were strewn about in the grass.

Fingon sighed, sitting up and watching Maedhros. He snatched up his lover’s shirt while Maedhros’ back was to him and pulled it on, before lying back in the grass. “I suppose we should. Though admittedly it would be fitting payback to bypass the clothes--the number of times I’ve seen those boys running around indecent is… well, indecent.” Fingon chuckled, smoothing the purloined shirt over his skin.

It took Maedhros a few minutes of tireless searching (and wondering if he had somehow cast off his clothes at an earlier point?) before he saw Fingon wearing his shirt. "Finno!" he said, his hands on his hips. "Now if I didn't like seeing you in that so much--" he said, biting his lip, and looking at Fingon's shirt. "If I try to wear this it will rip," he stated. "Or be obscene."

Giggling, Fingon wrapped his arms around himself, holding Maedhros’ shirt protectively. “I like you obscene--almost as much as I like the idea of your clothes ripping, and the idea of you in my clothes.” He sighed. “But I suppose I’ll give it back to you… for now.” He stood, and wrapped his arms around Maedhros, then jumped up and wrapped his legs around his lover’s waist, tilting his head to kiss him. “Tomorrow, Russ.” He shook his head and smiled. “I cannot wait, arimelda.”

"Tomorrow!" Maedhros cried, and laughed suddenly, and spun Fingon around in his arms, kissing him. "Oh, Fin, I'm so full of energy, I'm so excited, I feel I might go mad. Let's run back to grandfather's. If you're tired I'll carry you," he offered as they exchanged shirts.

“Just hold my hand and I’ll run as far as you’d like.” Fingon giggled. “But perhaps while we’re at the cabin you’ll be willing to carry me around, a bit?” He grabbed Maedhros hand and bowed over it before going a step further, dropping to his knees and looking up at Maedhros. “Especially if you’ve gotten me too exhausted to move or too undone with unsated desire to control my body, beloved melindo, my dearest prince and lord.”

Maedhros licked his lips, frozen, eyes glazing. "Oh, Finno, you mustn't tempt me!" He said, tugging Fingon up and into an embrace, "Especially since I might render you unable to walk," he whispered, and winked, but before Fingon could respond, he was off and running.

Fingon laughed long and loud as he raced after his cousin. “Russandol--Russ don’t leave me behind!” Fingon sprinted, and when Maedhros turned to glance back he put on a burst of speed and leapt onto his lover’s back, sending them sprawling. They landed with Maedhros on top of Fingon, pressing him into the ground, and he smiled up at his betrothed. “The feels familiar.”

Maedhros huffed, wriggling. "Is that a challenge?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No--just a comment.” Fingon stuck out his tongue. “I don’t think you want a complete repeat of events--or else you’ll be desperately trying to explain how I tripped and you fell.” He wrapped his arms around Maedhros’ neck and pulled himself up to kiss him. “But, Ambarussa, right? Shall we?”

Rolling his eyes at his lover's antics, Maedhros hauled them up, and this time, taking his hand firmly, ran them all the way back to grandfather's. Once nearby, they slowed, sneaking from tree to tree, dodging servants and tradesmen and women who bore flowers, decorations, and foodstuffs to the house. Soon they spotted the twins, unsupervised for now, playing in the garden (Maedhros was pretty certain they were pulling up Indis' flowersbeds, but he didn't have time to yell at them now). "Ambarussa!" he hissed, putting a finger over his mouth to indicate the need for quiet. Appreciating the conspiracy, the twins looked dramatically about them before creeping over.

“Brother. Tomorrow brother.” The twins addressed them in unison with a nod to each.

“Ambarussa. Ambarussa. Little brothers.” Fingon nodded at the boys. “We were looking for someone to help us with a little subterfuge, and you immediately came to mind.” The twins shared a smile.

“What can we help you with?” Amrod asked.

“The kitchens. We’re looking for the makings of a quiet dinner.”

“Are you sneaking out to spend the night together?” Amras asked.

Maedhros shook his head quickly, gathering his little brothers' warm, wriggling bodies to him. "No, Ambarussa, no," he assured them. "You know it's bad luck to see each other on the day of the wedding before the ceremony. I'll be home in time to see you to bed," he vowed, "by the mingling. Is it all right if I stay with Findekáno until then?"

The twins considered this, finally nodding, determining it was appropriate.

"Dinner."

"Yes."

"Good."

"We can do that."

"You'll have to tuck us in, Maitimo."

"Sing us a song, Maitimo."

"Yes, yes," Maedhros agreed. "One for each of you if you like. How about some bread and cheese?"

The Ambarussa scoffed. "We're not _babies_ , Nelyo!"

"We can do better than that! We'll meet you over by the sunflowers!"

And they were gone.

Fingon smiled. “That was simple--almost too simple. Shall we go over to the sunflowers to wait?” Maedhros nodded and they began to wind their way through the garden.

Maedhros and Fingon didn't wait long, as if the twins had had their quarry in their sights for some time and only now had the motive and the means: they soon returned bearing a picnic basket between them, with a blanket hanging out at a haphazard angle. They were puffing slightly when they reached the sunflowers: "Gramma almost saw us. You better hurry."

Maedhros glanced inside. Two pies of some sort (hopefully not for tomorrow, but Maedhros couldn't manage to care even if they were), a bottle of something liquid, and the tablecloth, which he eased inside the basket fully.

"Thank you, brothers," he said, hugging and kissing them both.

"Don't forget to be home on time!" they insisted.

“Don’t worry. You’ll have your brother back for the evening,” Fingon assured them. He slid his hand into Maedhros’ free hand, and they began to head back away from the house, slipping out the back of the garden. “This is lovely. Where should we head for our last evening as betrotheds? Back into the meadows? Or perhaps down along the river would be nice.”

"The river then," Fingon replied. He squeezed Maedhros' hand as they walked, moving at a sedate pace once they were out of view of the house. "I love you, betrothed. So very, very dearly. I cannot say that enough." He leaned against Maedhros before leading them further, to an area where the creek ran over a number of stones created a soft sound that was a quiet imitation of a waterfall's music. "I'm happy, Russ. And this is perfect. Ah, there?" He pointed to a flat area, and they stopped and set down the basket.

"Perfect," Maedhros said, laying out the blanket, sitting atop it, and pulling Fingon into his lap. "Now, what did the Ambarussa bring us, I wonder? Well, no cutlery, it seems, but a single knife.  At least the pies are cool... What's in the bottle?"

“Ah… I think it used to be champagne, _someone_ poured orange juice into it.” Fingon snorted in amusement, setting it down. “I’m actually getting hungry. Why am I not surprised they didn’t grab cutlery? The only question is whether they intended it as a prank or are just so used to ignoring their own that it slipped their minds.” He glanced at the two pies. “What kind are they? Shall we each take one, or do you think they are meant to share?”

Maedhros cut into the first pie and licked the knife. "Oh," he said. "Uh oh." He looked guiltily at Fingon and tried the other. "Well," he concluded.

“I don’t like ‘uh oh’. What does ‘uh oh’ mean?” Fingon looked at Maedhros, then at the pie, and sniffed delicately. “Russ, what is that?”

"Well, it's a steak pie...uh, a peppered steak pie. It's, well, you'll have to see if it's too spicy for you. The other is blackberry. Which is fine except for the no-cutlery." Maedhros looked at Fingon: "Findekáno, my love. I'm beginning to fear we have been pranked."

Fingon sighed, and gave Maedhros a wry grin. “That’s alright. I suppose I’ll just be having dessert for dinner. And for dessert. Would you be willing to carve up a simple sort of spoon from a tree branch? I’ll be fine with that, and then we can both have the blackberry. I’ll leave the peppered steak pie to you, though, melda.”

"You could try it," Maedhros suggested, but Fingon's eating habits were, well, not to be gainsaid, for one thing. "Never mind," he said, and searched for branches of appropriate size, but instead of whittling them himself he handed them off to Fingon, with the knife. "You're better at this than I," he said.

Fingon rolled his eyes, but quickly stripped the sticks of their bark and fashioned a semblance of a spoon out if each- it was faster than trying to make forks and far easier with green wood. "You don't give yourself enough credit, though I'm happy to help out." He handed one spoon to Russ as he finished them. "I hope you don't mind if I start dessert right now? I promise I'll save you some."

"I won't need any sweetness save that which comes from your lips," Maedhros said, with exaggerated sincerity. Still, he leaned against Fingon as they ate. "It's really not that spicy," he said, but he reached for the bottle. "Is it just orange juice? Or mimosas?"

Fingon giggled. "I think the latter, but I haven't tried it yet." He grabbed the bottle and took a long drink. "Mimosas," he said with a smile. "Want a taste?" But instead of handing over the bottle, he leaned over. "You said you would take sweetness from my lips," Fingon added, and taking another drink he kissed his lover with lips sweet with orange juice and champagne.

Maedhros moaned into the kiss, the sparkling sweetness playing on his tongue. "Perfect," he said when they parted. Maedhros ate until he was satisfied, then set the pie aside and rested his head in Fingon's lap. "Don't make yourself sick," he warned with a smile.

"Then I think you should help me finish this. And of course, I could not bear to be ill tomorrow--that is not an option!" He offered Maedhros a bite of pie. "Try some?" He requested, holding his spoon for Maedhros to take a mouthful.

Maedhros opened his mouth obediantly, and chewed gratefully. "I think my brothers hoped we would be stained by the blackberries," he said. "I suppose they'll get no songs tonight."

"Aww, will you sing them one song, for me?" Fingon rubbed at Maedhros’ neck and shoulder. "Prank or not, we get to eat in peace, just the two of us, because of their help." Fingon kissed Maedhros softly. "And I cannot complain about the chance to spend more time with you, arimeldanya. That is a sustenance I need far more than an un-spiced meat pie this evening."

Maedhros sighed. "For you, melda, anything," Maedhros promised. "And you're right, of course." He was already distracted by his lover's hair, and pet it absently from where he lay. "Will you wear my clothes?" He asked. "At the cabin? Once we are--"

"Yes. Yes, of course. I think it would please us both greatly." He smiled at Maedhros. "And I have a few things of my own that I would like to wear for you, after we are wed." He gave Maedhros a shy look. "I've been working on what I'll bring on this trip for quite some time. Though I could happily spend the entire time dressed in your clothing." Fingon curled a piece of Maedhros' hair around his finger as he watched his lover fondly.

"Well, I wouldn't mind if you spent the entire time wearing nothing at all," Maedhros confessed with a laugh. "I'm so excited, Findekáno. Is it time for us to part yet? Only because then it means we've reached the day of our bonding, and we're that much closer to being joined."

"Oh, beloved--how will I get through the night and morning and afternoon without your touch, your taste, the sight of you before me? Just... Hold me a little longer in your arms, please." He snuggled against Maedhros, and tightened his grip on him.

"With the knowledge that we will soon be bonded forever," Maedhros said, though he held tighter to Fingon, too, rolling over and sitting up enough to latch onto Fingon's middle. "I love you."

"Inyë tyë-mela, Russandol. My beautiful prince. My lord. My betrothed. And tomorrow, my husband." He kissed Maedhros briefly between each statement, and clung to him. "Yes, that knowledge will help me get through the hours, but know that you will be constantly on my mind and in my heart. I ache for this, Russ. Body, mind, and spirit I yearn to be joined with you. And it's almost difficult to believe the day is all but here--that our wedding guests are arriving and most of the decorations are up..." He grinned dazedly at his lover, pressing against the firm warmth of his frame.

"Are you nervous?" Maedhros asked, and he sat up, gathering Fingon to him.

"I'm terribly happy. And yes--I'm nervous about letting you inside me so thoroughly--letting you see my thoughts, I mean. But," he sighed and pressed himself close against Maedhros. "I trust you. And I will believe in us. And I want this more than I have ever wanted anything. And you?"

Maedhros nodded. "I'm worried about the ceremony, if you'll believe it," he laughed: "that someone may yet object, or I'll forget the words, or the Ambarussa will fall in the cake." Here he cupped Fingon's cheek, "I have had all of your life, fifty years and a month, to be nervous about--to second-guess--our union, Findekáno. If I never was firm in this I am firm now."

Fingon nodded against him. "I don't want to leave you," he whispered. "We should head back if you want to put Ambarussa to sleep, but by the Valar I don't want to leave you."

"And you'll never have to, after tonight. At least, never forever. _Never_." He kissed Fingon then, tenderly but not lightly. "Tenn' ambar-meta, remember?" He smiled.

"Tenn' ambar metta," Fingon replied, gripping him tightly. "I remember. Never forever; I am yours as you are mine." He kissed Maedhros and it was a promise and a vow.

"I have one last gift to give you as your betrothed," Maedhros said, and slid back to lie again in Fingon's lap. "But you'll have to find it on me," he said with a grin.

“Really, again?” Fingon asked with a smile. “Could it be your body?” He kissed Maedhros. “Your lips?” Another kiss. “Your skin?” He ran his hands down his lover’s arms. “But I fear such a gift might be more appropriate after we are wed.”

Maedhros giggled and tried not to move. "That's for later. I'll give you a hint: you won't find it on or in the garment you attempted to steal from me earlier."

“Hmm, well I was trying to get _into_ you pants, but I suppose you mean your shirt? And not steal, love--just… repurpose.” Fingon grinned and slid his hands down Maedhros’ sides and then back up, trailing over his cousin’s shirt.

Maedhros wiggled this time and laughed. "Getting cold," he said. "Also I apparently did not think this through."

“Are you complaining about me touching you?” Fingon asked incredulously. “Sit up, would you, arimelda? No reason to make it difficult for me to get into your pants, particularly after such a mysterious invitation.” He pulled Maedhros against him when his cousin sat up, so that his chest was pressed to Maedhros’ back. Then he ducked his hands lower, inching them into Maedhros’ pockets, pressing at his lower abdomen. His left hand brushed across something cool and metallic. “Russ?” he questioned, and gently pulled it out.

Maedhros huffed. "Yes, that's it. I was hoping you might wear it." The bronze metal woven with ebony, and the pendant etched with Fëanor's star left no question about whose colors these were. He tilted his head back to look at Fingon.

“Oh. Russandol, this is _gorgeous_.” Fingon held it up and ran his fingers over it reverently. “I would gladly wear it. This is… this is almost as good as being able to wander about in your clothes.” He brought to his neck, clasping it so that it lay over his chest. “Thank you,” he whispered, turning Maedhros’ head gently and claiming his lips.

"It will have to do for now, anyway," Maedhros said, drinking in the kiss gently. "And thank _you_ , for wearing it." He grinned and kissed Fingon again.

“Mmm. I love it. You are most welcome.” Fingon’s fingers strayed to his own pocket. “I have something for you as well… here.” His hand slipped into his own pocket and he held a close fist in front of Maedhros.

Maedhros sat up, laying his open palm beneath Fingon's hand, nervous with anticipation. They had talked about exchanging pendants like this, but now it was here it was all so real.

Fingon dropped the pendant into Maedhros’ hand, and it glinted as it caught the light. He smiled, fairly pleased with his design. The side facing Maedhros was blue and gold, though the design was something new. In the back was a mountain ridge wrought in gold, the shape of the Maitimoronti against the sky as seen from their lake. On the bottom a lake and a small river wound their way back into the mountain. Chips of gemstone glittered like stars in the blue of the lake. The back, though Maedhros had not flipped it over to see, was simpler and simply had two gems, red and blue, embedded into the metal.

Maedhros' eyes watered. This wasn't what they had talked about--it was better--and once again Fingon had outdone himself and outdone him. "Ai, Finno," he sighed, "this is beautiful." He pulled Fingon into a hug. "No wonder my father approved of us so readily: he's getting a better craftsman out of his son-in-law than he had in his son." He kissed Fingon's neck. "Thank you. I love it."

“Liar. But you’re a kind one,” Fingon murmured, pressing his face against Maedhros’ hair. “And you are most welcome. You are so far beyond me in skill… but I’m working to narrow that gap. And your father has been… beyond kind in helping me. He, ah, he saw this before you did,” Fingon admitted. “I needed help getting the detailing to appear correctly, and to embed such small stones for our fallen stars. I made the pendent, of course, but we worked with spare materials and he helped me with several new techniques that we hadn’t covered yet in lessons.”

Maedhros was grinning stupidly at the pendant, taking in its sweetness and symbolism. "It's wonderful. I'll wear it proudly, always." He pulled Fingon into a kiss. "Thank you."

“I’m glad it pleases you.” Fingon kissed him again, and pulled back with a smile and a laugh, tracing over his pendant. “And thank you for this. It’s beautiful. And I am proud to wear your family’s mark.” He pressed their foreheads together, hands running along Maedhros’ arms and chest. “Tyë melin.”

"Inyë tyë melin," Maedhros answered. They stayed like that for some time before he realized it was getting late. "May I walk you home?" Maedhros asked, packing up their picnic. "Well back to grandfather's. Back to our room. Your room for the night. I'll ride hard and get home in time."

"Please. I would have every minute with you I can." Fingon leaned over and kissed him. "I'm a bit selfish that way," he admitted quietly.

"No more than I, then," Maedhros responded. He hauled Fingon up. "Let's go."

"If we must," Fingon sighed. He kept hold of Maedhros' hand as they walked, squeezing it lightly every few minutes. "Will you sleep well tonight?" He asked as they made their way back to Finwë's home.

"Not a wink," Maedhros laughed, breaking their handhold and pulling Fingon under his shoulder. "I'll be fretting. Or masturbating," he laughed. "Counting the minutes."

"Russ!" Fingon squeaked. "Not fair." He resisted the urge to adjust himself. "You shouldn't put such images into my head." He leaned into his lover, enjoying their positions. "Don't fret, beloved. Come rain or shine, complete silence or loud protests, I will be waiting for you. Find me, and take me by the hand, and I will be yours for all of time."

Maedhros kissed the top of Fingon's head and they passed the rest of the way in silence. He handed the basket to Fingon and stopped at the door. "Can I count on you to dispose of the evidence?" He asked. The Trees were near mingling, and things were quieting down. The Fëanorians had departed, and Maedhros would have to ride hard to make curfew.

Fingon nodded. “Of course. But, before you leave--“ Fingon set the basket down, and reached out to Maedhros, sliding into his arms and pressing against him, tilting his head up. “Our last kiss as betrothed Eldar,” he murmured softly. “We’d best make it something worthy of remembrance, don’t you think, arimeldanya?” He sought Maedhros’ gaze, and hugged him tightly. “I love you, my betrothed.”

"I love you, my betrothed," he echoed, pulling Fingon against him and kissing him, not with love but with promise, with duty, a promise to be there for tomorrow and the next day and to never part forever. They might have been kissing for a moment or many, and when they broke, "Tenn' ambar meta," he whispered.

“Tenn’ ambar-meta.” Fingon touched his lover’s hair gently. “When you go to bed, arimeldanya, when you touch yourself to try to relax, remember that tomorrow I am yours completely... Oh, Russ! It’s for a day, but it’s hard to let you go. Give my best to the boys. And I’ll see you tomorrow, dressed in silver and gold. My Russandol, how I love thee.”

Maedhros' eyes misted, and he leaned forward to snatch a kiss, and smiled. "I love you," he said, and turned and ran to the stables, pulled himself up on his mare, and tore away as if he was riding to Fingon, not away, and he made it home by the Mingling, in a sweat, and he sang the twins to sleep, went into his room, and letting the flood of anticipation, separation, anxiety, and mostly love hit him, he burst into tears.

Fingon leaned against the door, watching until Maedhros was out of sight before he turned to enter Finwë’s house.

“Back already?” called an amused voice.

“Grandfather.” Fingon smiled slightly, though he suddenly felt very tired. “Russandol was going to tuck in the twins, so he had to make their curfew.” Finwë chuckled lightly in response. “I think I’m going to turn in for the evening, if that is acceptable?”

“Of course. And in case you intent to pace a hole in the floor of your room instead of sleeping, there’s a pitcher of water with some cheese and bread waiting for you. I find that sometimes eating and thinking is better than thinking alone. Or eating alone, for that matter.”

“Thank you,” Fingon said sincerely, hugging his grandfather. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He continued on to his room, which seemed very large and very empty without Maedhros. He prepared for bed, and fell atop the sheets, hugging the pillow from Maedhros’ side of the bed close to his chest. “Russ,” he whispered. “I miss you already. And ‘m scared, but I can’t wait to hold you again. I think I’d do anything to be in your arms.” He shook his head at his own silliness, and slipped beneath the covers to try to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming soon: the wedding day has (finally) arrived!


	2. Chapter 2

"Ambaru--Telufinwë!" Maedhros growled as he figured out which one he was wrangling: "Sit still if you want me--"

"Maitimo, _calm_ down," Maglor said, coming up behind him and laying a hand on his arm as Maedhros looked about ready to grab his little brother by the hair. "I'll do their hair."

Maedhros released Amras, who turned around (rather innocently, now) to see what all the fuss was about. "They asked me to do it. I've already done Pityo--now where has he gone?"

"Nelyo," Maglor said, more sternly this time. "You're not even dressed yet." Indeed, Maedhros' hair was wet and he was clad in nothing more than a robe. "Go see amil, she's waiting for you in the bedroom."

At that moment, Caranthir walked in, holding a squirming and screaming Amrod upside-down in his arms. "I found this one trying to rearrange the flowers."

"Good, I need him to match this one," Maglor said, then, getting a look at the braiding that had been done: "Nelyo, _why_ did you have to plait his hair so intricately? They're not even in the wedding! Shoo, shoo, go see Amil!"

Rolling his eyes, Maedhros turned toward the bedroom, but almost ran over Curufin, who was toddling in after him. "Maitimo, will you do my hair, too?" he asked shyly and sweetly.

"Of course, little brother," Maedhros said, hauling Curufin into his arms (who was really too big for this) and carrying him out.

"Ah, I think I'll field that for you, brother," Celegorm said, appearing out of nowhere to snatch Curufin from his arms. "Amil's looking for you." Curufin seemed happy to see Celegorm, though, and Celegorm sat him up on his shoulders, instead. "Come on, Curvo: now we're taller than Maitimo, we can tell him what to do."

"GO SEE AMIL!" Curufin demanded imperiously, and laughing, Maedhros allowed himself to be shooed into the bedroom proper with Celegorm and Curufin chasing him.

" _There_ you are," Nerdanel said, shoving clothes in his face. "No time to be shy. Get changed."

"Amil!" Maedhros protested.

"Nothing I've not seen before, come on. At least get your breeches on so I can start on your hair."

Several rooms down, things were slightly less hectic, though only due to a smaller number of people.

“Findekáno, _please_ sit still.” Aredhel carefully grabbed another handful of hair, beginning to weave her brother’s golden threads into it. Anairë laughed as half a minute later Fingon’s feet began tapping.

“I’m trying. What time is it, Amil?”

“We’ve plenty of time. It’s still a couple of hours until the ceremony.” Fingon smiled at her, and managed to still his feet. Then his hands began tapping along his thighs. Aredhel rolled her eyes at their mother but continued her work without comment. 

Maedhros fidgeted with the ring on his finger, sliding it half-off his finger to unlock the puzzle before clicking it together and slipping it back where it belonged. He was shivering in his smallclothes on a stool at his mother's feet while she pulled his hair back into what felt like a hundred braids fixed with a thousand tiny stars.

"Amil," Curufin said, from where he sat in Celegorm's lap who was pulling his hair back as well. "Can I have stars in my hair like Maitimo?"

"Not tonight, sweetness," Nerdanel said. "This is Maitimo's big day."

Curufin giggled. "Oh, yeah. Tyelko told me."

Celegorm tugged on his brother's hair. "Hey, that was between you and me," he scolded.

Maedhros blushed, covering his face with his hands.

"Am I going to have to make up your face? Or would you like to match your hair for the ceremony, my son?" Nerdanel teased. "Now where is that jar you and Finno brought..." she cast about.

"There it is," Maedhros said, pointing to where he had left it.

"You're sure these will have these stars in them you spoke of? It looks like plain lake water to me."

"I'm sure," Maedhros said. "You won't see them until it's dark. I want you to paint me all over with it."

“Is it alright? Please sprinkle a little more in my hair. You’ll see when evening arrives--it will be worth it,” Fingon assured Anairë. His mother shook her head with a smile and tugged at the hem of his right sleeve.

“There. That’s perfect. Thirty minutes, Findekáno.” A brief knock on the door followed her statement. “As long as you aren’t Russandol, come in,” Anairë called, and Fingolfin slipped through the door before shutting it tightly.

“Findekáno,” he murmured, stopping as he caught sight of his son. He smiled softly, eyes lighting up. “You look handsome. You look… so grown up and happy.” He walked around Fingon. “Perhaps you could use something else, though?” He glanced at the Fëanorean star hanging form his firstborn’s neck, his ring and hairpieces and his grin widened. He took Fingon’s arm in his own, and slid a small silver and gold bracelet around his wrist. Fingon looked down and his eyes widened. Holding it up, he could see Finwe’s, Feanor’s, and Fingolfin’s emblems in miniature circling it.

“Atar, it’s beautiful! Thank you.” He hugged his father, until Anairë began swatting them both until they parted and she could begin working on pulling Fingon’s garments into place again.

“I need to go and get ready for my part. Findekáno--I love you. And I am so proud of you.” Fingon kissed his son’s forehead gently. “I’ll see you when the ceremony begins.”

"Atar!" Maedhros cried as his father pushed through the door.

"Just saw my brother wandering down the hall to get ready, and he looked about as happy as--" Fëanor looked at his son in alarm. "You're not even dressed!"

"You could help instead of shouting," Nerdanel pointed out, and Maedhros was suddenly caught between his parents, being forcibly dressed by both of them, as hadn't happened in at least seventy years, and was highly embarrassing.

"Quick, we need the last of the star-water," Nerdanel said, pressing the jar and brush into Feanor's hands. "Douse his clothes in this. Just do it." Then, without asking, she began brushing his face with a light, sparkling powder, which she said would mask his blush a bit.

Maedhros did his best to remain still, as Maglor and Caranthir entered, each holding a twin.

"Everyone ready?" Nerdanel said, surveying her brood. "Ten minutes. That's a new record for all of us. Carnister, tuck your shirt in. Tyelkormo, take your brothers downstairs." She peered closely at Maedhros, circling him once before kissing his cheek. "Macalaurë, get your brother into position and then find Turukáno. Fëanáro, how do I look?"

"Perfect, darling," Fëanáro said, kissing her hard.

Aredhel slid back into Fingon’s room with a blinding grin. “Atar! You’d best hurry and meet grandfather. Russandol’s already at his place, so Findekáno can go now!” She rocked from her heels to toes with excitement, a habit likely picked up from her oldest brother. Fingon stood quickly, then sank back down because of his shaking legs. He waved his mother aside, breathing harshly.

“It’s alright--I’m fine. Sorry. I can do this. Just… just nerves.” He closed his eyes for a moment, ignore the sounds of his parents, Aredhel and Turgon, and focused on an image of Maedhros’ face as they had traded pendants, and as Maedhros had said his only fear was something going wrong at the wedding. He took a long, deep breath and then stood. “I’m ready. Shall we?” he held an arm out to his mother and they proceeded to the top of the stair that they would be descending once Maglor’s music began. Waiting for their cue was more difficult than the period of time before a sparring match. Fingon ran his fingers over his ring, and over his new pendant, and kept calm only with thoughts of Maedhros several yards away waiting behind the door to the other stair.

Maedhros waited, his arm hooked in Maglor's. "I'm sweating too much," he said.

Maglor looked at him, brushed a bead of sweat off his brow, and held his arm looser. "You're all right. You're covered in stars and sparkles, it all blends together. You look good."

Maedhros ground his teeth. "I'm going to trip and break my neck falling down the stairs."

"You're going to be holding onto Amil."

"I'm bigger than her."

"And she wrestles stone all day. She's not going to let you fall."

"What if I faint?"

"Russandol!" Maglor snapped. "You're going to be fine."

Maedhros nodded as Nerdanel slipped up behind him. "All right, boys? Macalaure, would you go tell Turukáno we're ready?"

"He knows. We're waiting for the musical cue."

Fingon, Aredhel and Anairë all looked up in unison as the music finally began. Fingon clenched and unclenched his fingers at the first soft notes of the opening. Aredhel moved to pull back the curtain, and Anairë stepped up to take her firstborn’s arm. Then, as the first loud notes began, they stepped out into the light.

Everything shone with white and silver decorations, and a crowd of faces looked up at them. Fingon only had eyes for the ner descending on his left, however, and he almost made a fool of himself tripping as he stared at Maedhros. His betrothed _glowed_ , and not only from the makeup and decorations surrounding him. Smiling, Fingon caught Maedhros’ gaze for a moment, and he could have sworn the world stopped and time froze as they stared at each other. Then the moment passed and they continued down the stairs, toward a place where they could see one another better, and get their first look at the full outfits they were wearing. Fingon felt his mother squeezing his arm and he looked over at her with a soft smile. “This is perfect,” he whispered under his breath. “I cannot thank you enough, Amil.”

It was a wonder Maedhros made it down the stairs at all, but apparently he did, because the next thing he knew (his world reduced to Fingon, like a falling star himself, shining like a beacon, deigning to descend from the heavens just to love him) he was down the stairs, in front of his grandfather, and his mother was sliding her arm out of his, going back to stand with her husband.

Maedhros did not glance around, but he knew from rehearsals that Fëanor and Fingolfin flanked Finwë and Indis, but now their grandfather stepped forward, where, with royal weddings at least, one of the Valar would usually stand to officiate. Instead, it was their grandfather, whose voice, clear and very real (reminding Maedhros he was not dreaming, that Fingon, so perfect and shining and beautiful before him, was real), welcomed the assembly.

Fingon stared openly at his betrothed, unable to look away once they had stopped, feet from one another. Maedhros shone, and he looked every inch the highborn prince, third in line for the Noldorin throne. He bit his lip, very much aware that he did not deserve someone as talented, beautiful, kind, and intelligent as his lover. But if it pleased Maedhros, he would gladly join with him. Then their eyes met and Maedhros gave him a look of such blinding and unconditional love that Fingon could not bring himself to doubt, and let his mind drift, focusing on his lover’s clothes, his adornments, the pendant and the ring that Fingon had designed, the knots in his hair. Distantly, he heard Finwë welcoming everyone, and calling on Eru Iluvatar to witness this bonding. He knew that his grandfather was speaking of the Eldar, and of their responsibilities as members of the royal lines, and of the true beauty that came from joining two fëa as one. But his mind and his heart were too filled with Maedhros to pay full attention to anything else.

Maedhros was started out of his staring as Finwë spoke his name. "Nelyafinwë Maitimo, firstborn of Curufinwe Fëanáro, you have been bound for a time in the belief that you have found the other half of your fëa, one you would gladly join with, tenn’ ambar meta. Today, do you know this to be true?”

Maedhros swallowed hard, but spoke loudly: "I know it in hröa and fëa to be true." He did not move his eyes from Fingon's face, which shone brighter than the stars he wore.

"Would you join yourself to this Elda, before family and friends, in the name of Eru Iluvatar?"

Maedhros spoke in the old accent of his father's mother, voice proud and clear. He longed to reach out and touch Fingon, and already he was yearning for him, already they were so nearly bonded his stomach knotted with desire. "By root and seed, by bud and stem, by leaf and flower and fruit, by life and love, in the name of Eru Iluvatar, I, Nelyafinwë Maitimo Fëanorion, take thee, Findekáno Poldórëa Nolofinwion, to my hand, heart, and my fëa, at the waxing and the waning of the trees, and under the steady shining of the stars. Nor shall death part us, should it find us, for in time we would be reunited in the Halls of Mandos or the lands of Aman, and we would find one another and know one another, and love each other again."

Fingon’s breath caught as he listened to Maedhros, and he trembled as Finwe turned to him when Maedhros had finished. “Findekáno Poldórëa, firstborn of Nolofinwë Finwëon you have been bound for a time in the belief that you have found the other half of your fea, one you would gladly join with, tenn’ ambar meta. Today, do you know this to be true?”

"I know it in hröa and fëa to be true." Fingon answered immediately, and allowed some of the high accent that Maedhros so adored to come through in his speech

"Would you join yourself to this Elda, before family and friends, in the name of Eru Iluvatar?"

Fingon breathed deeply, and his gaze and Maedhros’ locked. "By root and seed, by bud and stem, by leaf and flower and fruit, by life and love, in the name of Eru Iluvatar, I, Findekáno Poldórëa Nolofinwion, take thee, Nelyafinwë Maitimo Fëanorion, to my hand, heart, and my fëa, at the waxing and the waning of the trees, and under the steady shining of the stars.” He ached for Maedhros, he wanted nothing more than to hold him, and with Maedhros’ eyes locked on him his trembling ceased and his words rang out clear and strong. “Nor shall death part us, should it find us, for in time we would be reunited in the Halls of Mandos or the lands of Aman, and we would find one another and know one another, and love each other again." Fingon felt shadow pass over him briefly with the last words, but then it was gone, and Maedhros was before him, and they were so close. Finwë gathered everyone’s attention to him as he spoke again.

“Nelyafinwë, as a sign and symbol of your love and your union, do you have a ring of your make for your husband?”

Maedhros tore his gaze from Fingon long enough to flick his gaze at his grandfather, and nodded. "I do," he said, producing the ring.

"And do you have the ring of Findekáno's making which he gave to you as a sign of your betrothal?"

"I do."

Finwe turned to Fingon, and asked the same of him: "Findekáno, as a sign and symbol of your love and your union, do you have a ring of your make for your husband?"

“I do.”

"And do you have the ring of Nelyafinwë's making which he gave to you as a sign of your betrothal?"

"I do."

“Nelyafinwë, Findekáno, you will no longer be betrothed, and so must move your betrothal rings to the opposite hand.” Fingon and Maedhros immediately adjusted their rings. “Now, I would ask that you exchange rings. Nelyafinwë, please place the ring made for your husband on Findekáno’s hand.”

Fingon barely saw the ring placed on him, though it glittered and shone. Rather, his attention was fixed on Maedhros’ face as he slipped it onto Fingon’s finger. He released a soft sigh as the warm metal slipped around his skin. “Findekáno,” Finwe’s voice interrupted, pulling him from his thoughts. “Please place the ring made for your husband on Nelyafinwë’s hand.” Fingon took his ring in hand, and barely glancing at it slipped his creation upon Maedhros’ finger.

Maedhros couldn't look at the jewel, mesmerized instead by the sparkle in Fingon's eyes, an impossible blue and impossibly full of love. He kept hold of Fingon's hand, clutching it like a lifeline. He barely heard his grandfather as he asked them to seal their union with a kiss before he was crashing their lips together, eagerly enough that the assembly laughed even as they clapped and cheered them on--

And then Turgon brought the lights down.

Maedhros was still kissing Fingon, so he hardly noticed the gasps and cries of surprise as Maedhros and Fingon glowed as never before, their hair and skin and clothes shining as with thousands of tiny stars, mirroring the heavens above. The spell lasted only a few moments before their eyes adjusted to the dark, and when Maglor took up his harp and started playing, Maedhros pulled Fingon into his arms and danced with him by the light of their own stars.

Fingon grinned against Maedhros’ lips as he heard their family’s response to the fallen stars. “I told you they wouldn’t be able to look away from you,” he murmured softly as they began to dance. “You shine as one of the Vala themselves, beloved.” And he would have stayed wrapped in Maedhros’ arms the entire evening if he was able, but they had to accept the congratulations of his kin, who seemed numberless this night. And the music would break and allow them to visit with the others, and grab some of the incredible foot that filled long tables along the edges of the gathering.

“Nelyo, Finno,” Finwë called, threading his way to them during a break in the songs. He smiled. “Congratulations. I couldn’t be happier with the two of you. Though, of course, you know that you will not be truly counted as husbands until the bonding is completed.” Fingon flushed lightly at the reminder, but managed a small smile at Maedhros.

Maedhros nearly choked on the champagne he was drinking, but once he recovered he managed to sass in reply, "Sorry, we could leave now?" he offered, pulling Fingon close and making as if to run.

Finwë laughed. "And miss all the fun? And food! And gifts! We'll wait until later for those, of course." He embraced them both and kissed them both. "Look at that," he whispered, nodding at where Fëanor and Fingolfin were laughing and animatedly discussing something over a bottle of champagne, and when Indis pulled him away their grandfather's eyes were glistening with tears.

They hardly had a moment to recover before a few tiny missiles aimed at their knees: "Brother Nelyo! Brother Finno!" the Ambarussa cried, addressing them both. "The stars, the stars! Tell us about the stars!"

Fingon could have danced for joy at the title, and lifted Amrod while Amras climed onto a nearby chair. “Well… after the party we’ll be heading to the valley where we found them,” he told the twins, and began to tell a heavily edited version of the first trip he and Maedhros had made to the valley. It highlighted Maedhros saving him from a rockslide, and the amazing cliff diving opportunities the lake offered as well as the long stretches of beach where the water shone with fallen stars when the Trees were dim.

Maedhros grinned as he watched the exchange until he was suddenly yanked off to the dance floor.

"Ah, my favorite sister," he said, when he discovered who he was dancing with.

Aredhel smirked. "I am your only sister until any of the rest of your brood gets married," she said, and she was glaring at him.

"Irissë, is everything all right?" He asked.

"Everything is fine, as long as my brother--as long as Findekáno--remains happy."

Maedhros laughed. "Is this the 'take care of my brother or else' speech?"

She smiled. "Would you like to know the 'or else'?"

"I have a feeling I don't have a choice..."

"Well, you see, since I am the greatest huntress in Aman..."

"All right, all right, I get the idea," Maedhros laughed. "You'll hunt me down, let the dogs have their way with me, skin me and cook me, is that it?"

She grinned sweetly.

Fingon was having a slightly easier time of things. Nerdanel had eventually pulled him away from the twins, sending them in search for more appetizers. And while Fingon was led to the dance floor as well, Nerdanel saw little need to threaten him as she was perfectly aware of his devotion to her son. "Findekáno?" She asked softly. "Take care of him, alright? I know you wouldn't hurt Maitimo, but make sure he slows down and remembers to take care of himself."

Fingon blinked down at her in surprise. "Of course. You don't have to ask that--my greatest wish is to see my husband well." Nerdanel nodded and they continued a slow dance, and then a faster one. In the next dance, Fingon suddenly found himself dancing with Celegorm who cut in, and spun him around long enough for their path to intersect with Maedhros and Aredhel. Then Fingon was back in Maedhros arms as their siblings danced away laughing. He leaned against us cousin's chest and sighed happily. "I missed you," he said with a grin. "You abandoned me with the twins!"

"Your sister kidnapped me!" he chuckled. "I think it's rather a sign of her love for you than her distrust of me that she threatened me with various bodily injuries if I ever damaged you physically or emotionally." Maglor, ever skillful at picking up on the moods of his audience, played something slow and romantic, and was singing along with it, as Maedhros and Fingon drew closer together. "You look beautiful," he whispered into his hair. "But for all the beauty of our costumes I would rather divest you of all but your jewelry--I want you to leave all that on--and be bonded with you already." He grinned and nibbled playfully on Fingon's ear, squeezing him tightly.

"Ruuuss." Fingon moaned softly, pressing against Maedhros as they moved. "Not fair, beloved. You make me wish to bond this instant, to have you as my husband fully." He kissed the tip of Maedhros' nose. "I can do that for you later--I leave my hair up and your craftsmanship adorning me... You look beautiful as well, arimeldanya. Words cannot do justice to you tonight--even behind the stars and beautiful garments and jewels... you shine. You glow, melindo. And I am so honored to be yours."

"As I am honored to be yours," Maedhros whispered, twining his arms around Fingon, making sure his lover--his husband!--felt his twitch of interest as Fingon teased him. "Maybe you could put that sheer outfit on," Maedhros whispered into his hair, chuckling. "Or maybe just the jewelry," he decided, breathing in Fingon's delicious scent. "When can we leave, again?"

“Hmm?” Fingon was enjoying being so close to his husband after a day apart, and was amazed Maedhros was willing to tease him so in public. He let his head fall and hit Maedhros’ chest as the question sank it. “Not ‘till later,” Fingon groaned. “We still have dessert to get through, and the rest of the party. And then I get to watch you on a horse for hours upon hours. You realize our plans probably mean an entire day in this state-- half married but not yet bonded?” He shook his head, wondering how he-how they-- would survive this. After a minute Fingon brought his head up again, and after a quick kiss smiled at his lover. “Why limit yourself to one clothing option? I did pack that outfit… along with several others. And some new things that I thought you might like.” His cheeks were slightly flushed, but Fingon met Maedhros’ gaze squarely as he thought about exactly what he had quietly added to his travel bags.

"What's nine hours when we've been waiting nine years?" Maedhros asked, tilting Fingon's chin up and kissing him reverently. "I need a bit of time to adjust to the idea that my desires are now not only not wicked but also have our families' blessings, and that now I can act upon them. It will be a pleasure to wait for our own reasons, not those imposed upon us by law and custom." Now he wrapped Fingon close again. "I am glad you came prepared, anyway, for so did I."

"I remember," Fingon said, voice soft and meant for Maedhros' ears alone. "I remember what you said you would do to me." He kissed him softly, before continuing. "Though I have some ideas of my own to try, at some point during our trip. And yes, the wait will only make things sweeter. Provided I can survive the trip- do you like the design of our wedding garments? I'll admit, I may have made a few requests regarding the trousers--the view should be quiet spectacular as we make our way to the Maitimoronti."

"I had wondered," Maedhros said, and had to throw his head back to laugh, earning them glances from those around them. "Ah well, I won't complain. In the meantime I suppose we're meant to mingle. We'll have three weeks of each other all to ourselves soon enough. For that matter, when--?" Maedhros looked around, but at that moment Turgon slipped between them and grabbed them each by the arm, steering the newlyweds into a small antechamber.

"The grooms will be receiving some gifts from their close family,” he informed them as Fingon tried to weasel out of his grip.

"Oh, will we?" Maedhros whispered, grinning at Fingon, but pulled him off in that direction, anyway.

Before they had quite reached the door to the smaller room, Fingon turned so that he was facing Maedhros, and rose onto his toes as he took his lover’s face gently in one hand and pulled him down for a tender kiss. He could hear their siblings laughing and making sounds of encouragement, but he only smiled and linked his arm with Maedhros as they made their inside where Turgon was waiting. Fingon squeezed his lover’s hand, and soon they were joined by Finwë, their parents, and their siblings.

“Well, Nelyo, Finno, who should we start with?” Turgon asked, getting into his role as party manager. Fingon looked up at Maedhros, who had wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He shrugged, happy with any order.

Catching the grin Fëanor was giving him, Maedhros laughed: "Oh, now Atar has me worried. Should we do his first or last?" he asked Fingon.

"You should open ours first," Finwë said, with Indis smiling on his arm, and handed them a thick scroll, bound with leather and sealed with gems and Finwë's royal seal.

Maedhros took it reverently, looking to Fingon as he opened it.

Fingon stood close to him, reading over his shoulder as they saw the writing… and the sketches. “Grandfather!” Fingon gasped, looking at the images of the exterior, and some of the main rooms, of a house. “It’s beautiful!”

Finwë smiled. “Every new family should have a place to call their own. So I’ve been working--with help, of course--to ensure that you had such a place to begin your married life together. Though, of course, I fully expect you to spend plenty of time in my home, and both of your fathers'.” He stepped forward, and hugged Fingon tightly, and then Maedhros who was examining the details of the scroll.

"Grandfather!" Maedhros cried, near tears with delight. "This is--" his eyes caught the map: the house was situated, when he got his bearings looking at it, in a grove of trees, tucked into a hill overlooking a waterfall, at a point directly between their fathers' houses. The symbolism, if intentional (Maedhros suspected it was), wrenched an actual sob from him, and Maedhros covered his face and laughed. "Thank you, grandfather!" he cried, letting go of Fingon long enough to fling his arms around Finwë.

"Enough, enough," Turgon finally interjected with a laugh. "We need to get you through the rest of these gifts and back to everyone who wants to talk to you this evening." Fingon groaned lightly, and half fell against Maedhros, who easily caught him and held him up.

"Thank you. Thank you, grandfather," Fingon repeated, glancing up at Finwë and smiling widely. "And not just for this--for everything." His grandfather embraced them both, and then stepped back, yielding the floor to their parents, who all gave one another brief looks before Anairë stepped forward, holding out a leather portfolio.

Maedhros opened the portfolio. "Oh, Amil!" he cried. "Look, Finno! A workshop! All furnished?" he looked from the item list up at his mother.

"Of course," she said.

"Not a hint that you'd like to see me in the smith more often, at all, is it?" he teased.

Nerdanel folded her hands demurely. "I'm hoping once you get Findekáno out of your system that you two will produce some pieces that will mark you as Noldor."

Fingon leaned into Maedhros, giving him a hug as he looked over his shoulder. Under the cover of Maedhros hair, however, he brushed his lips against Maedhros’ ear with a smirk. “I thought the idea of this wedding was to get me _into_ you, husband, and you inside me?” With a wicked grin he kissed Maedhros’ cheek and turned to Nerdanel. “We’ll certainly do our best; I am determined to put uncle’s lessons to good use. Thank you very much--this is wonderful.”

"Finno!" he squeaked, flushing to his ears and looking guiltily around at his family. "Thank you, Amil, it is wonderful. I promise we will make you proud," he said more seriously, though a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Here, then," Fingolfin said, standing and handing over his portfolio. "Just a little something to put _in_ that new house of yours." As Maedhros leafed through the sketches of tables, chairs, wardrobes, and other furniture, he gasped, but Fingolfin continued: "I'm sure it doesn't match Fëanáro's skill, or what you're used to, Nelyo, but I designed and formed all these: and where I cannot match my brother in quality I will make up for in quantity. I'm also," he went on, "working on compiling a library for you, with plenty of cartographing tools..."

“Atar!” Fingon flew into his father’s arms, holding his father tightly. “Oh, Atar, thank you! It’s perfect. And they will all be beautiful-- your woodworking has always been incredible! And a library! Russ, we’ll have our own library!”

Fingolfin flushed lightly, and smiled as he held his child--his grown, married child--to himself, rocking him. “Congratulations,” he whispered against Fingon’s hair. “I am so proud of you, my Findekáno. And I wish you--both of you--every blessing Arda has to offer.”

Maedhros stood, wrapping both arms around his uncle-father, pressing his face to the crook of his neck. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"And I am proud of you, Nelyafinwë. And proud to call you son," Fingolfin whispered, returning the embrace.

When Maedhros settled back he was already exhausted. He did not think he could be more grateful, and then Anairë displayed two huge chests. "I'll have them sent to the house, of course," she said, pulling them open and then sitting down, hand resting on her belly. "But, well, after making wedding clothes, I just couldn't stop," she giggled, as Maedhros gazed on folds and folds of rich cloths.

"Aunt--" he gasped, hand catching at a tapestry.

"Oh, and I've been working on that for years. Since before you were betrothed, at least." She shrugged as if to say 'Mothers know these things.'

Fingon blinked repeatedly, and his voice was choked as he spoke. “Amil-- Amil this is… so much more than we would have imagined. Thank you! And thank you for all of your work on the wedding and decorations, also. This day has been… it’s been perfect.”

“Aside from not seeing Nelyafinwë for over half a day?” Anairë asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Aside from that,” Fingon admitted with a smile. He embraced her, and spun his mother in a full circle causing most of the others to laugh as she let out a small squeal of joy that sounded exactly like Aredhel when Fingon did the same to her. “Thank you for everything,” he whispered quietly into her hair, and everything stretched back to when she had first realized and how she had encouraged them to spend time together, and included her defense when Fingolfin had first found out. It was for her unwavering support and her enduring love. Anairë held him close, and, finding no words, only squeezed him more tightly.

Maedhros was mesmerized by the tapestry. It was, upon closer inspection, augmented by embroidery. The most prominent image was of two figures--one red-haired and bigger, one dark-haired and smaller--and they were standing together on a tall mountain. Other images bordered it, and he couldn't quite tell what they all were, but there was a small image of them riding horses, another of them reading together--one, at the bottom, they were clinging to the edge of a cliff while an eagle wheeled overhead. Seeing these images, arranged from long ago at the top to more recent down below, it seemed almost impossible to doubt that they were ever not meant for each other.

Fingon rejoined Maedhros and slid an arm around his waist as they looked at the images. “It makes this feel right, doesn’t it? Like we were always going to be together--there was only one way our story could end.” He felt Maedhros pull him closer against his side, and Fingon sighed happily, eyes following a tiny image of Maedhros studying at a library table while Fingon sat in his lap studying the text before them with equal intensity.

“It’s gorgeous, Anairë,” Feanor murmured quietly. “How is it that you ladies can spot these things so early? Or at least see the pattern in individual incidents? Would you mind telling me which Eldar the rest of my brood are to end up with?”

Nerdanel punched her husband in the arm. “If you studied your children with the same intensity you studied your gems perhaps you would already know.” Then she laughed, meeting Anairë’s gaze, and shrugged.

“Or perhaps not,” Anairë added. “These two were certainly easy to spot, it doesn’t necessarily mean the others are or have been or will be.”

“Fine then, keep your secrets.” Fëanor handed a large drawing to the boys as they stepped back from Anairë’s work. “As with Nolo’s gift, and father’s, this was not particularly easy to move here, so it will be waiting when you first visit your new house.”

Fingon accepted the paper this time, and unrolled it with a small gasp. Feanor had made them a bed fit for kings, the plans and sketches of which were shown (including scrawled notes of which materials should be used where and how deep the inalays should be). The headboard and base were engraved, and inlaid with precious metals, gems, and colorful woods, and the headboard depicted the Maitimoronti--the landscape Fingon had asked for Feanor’s help engraving on the pendant for Maedhros. It was done in more detail, however, and Fingon realized his uncle must have spoken with Finwe and looked through the books of maps, drawings and notes that he and Maedhros had been working on. The foot of the bed was a path up to their house, _their_ _house_ , and the house had warm lights filling it with a cheery glow--the jewels forming the windows glowed in a perfect imitation of a comfortable home at twilight (which the drawing could attest to, as a small sample of the chosen gem was attached to the sketch in one of the windows).

“Of course, the sides are detailed as well, but there was only so much I had time to redraw for today.” Fëanor shrugged. “The rest can be a surprise for when you get there. Also, please note the bar work at the head of the bed here, and here. I had to find a new alloy to get the detailing I wanted, and that is what is used here. The material is light and deceptively delicate in appearance, but I promise you it is also incredibly strong, easily holding the weight of the inlaid section.”

Finwë snorted loudly halfway through Fëanor’s explanation of the barred section.

Maedhros was near tears at the images until he realized what his _own_ _father_ was-- "You're not insinuating--" he gaped, feeling himself go red down to his chest as he remembered how Fëanor had first found them, and that many of his fantasies included more things of this nature only made it worse. And if grandfather was in on it-- " _Atar_!" he screeched, clapping a hand over his face.

“What?” Fëanor asked innocently. “I thought the curved bars were a nice touch. They look like trees from the bottom of Findekáno’s sketches of the valley, and really help to bring the piece together. It’s far more interesting than a simple, flat headboard. Also, they perfectly match the trees at the foot of the bed, which helps to unite the two separate scenes. It’s artistically appealing.” He winked at Findekáno before finishing replying to Maedhros, “what uses your husband may find for various pieces of the bed is entirely up to you.”

“Really? Because I’m sure I remember you telling me something about strength testing small rods of that alloy,” Finwë commented, not helping matters in the slightest. “Stronger than anything an Elda could bend or snap with bare hands or the force of a pulling arm or leg was how you put it, if I recall correctly.”

"Oh, Eru," Maedhros said, hiding his face and going slightly weak at everyone's laughing. "Well, now that we have our own home and--our own b-bed--we won't be imposing on your homes any further," he managed weakly.

"Wait, they _what_?” Fingolfin said, clearly not in on the joke, but he stilled when Anairë laid her hand on his arm.

Maedhros pointed a finger at his grandfather. "Don't you tell him. Don't you _dare_." And he glanced down at the tapestry just to make sure Anairë hadn't stitched anything of that nature in the tapestry.

Fingon tried to restrain himself, but as Maedhros and Fingolfin both appeared traumatized by events, he burst out laughing. “Oh. Oh, that is priceless! Thank you, my lord uncle. I assure you we shall greatly enjoy using your gift. And, grandfather, is it really necessary to traumatize them so?”

“I don’t know where they get it from,” Finwë muttered, looking from Maedhros to Fingolfin and back. The two of them almost looked like father and son with mirrored displeased looks.

“Russ.” Fingon pressed himself against his husband, pulling him down for a chaste kiss and to whisper in his ear. “It’s alright. And we _will_ be using those, so we should probably thank your father. And consider it, we’ll have our own private place to play--no more worrying about Finwë’s drowned cat comments or your family members’ horrible timing.” He rubbed his thumb along the back of Maedhros’ neck. “Is it bad that I’m already imagining you tied to that? Bound and spread open, just waiting to be filled…”

Maedhros cleared his throat, jerking back, and would have flushed if he wasn't red already (and _did_ flush, only lower down). He pulled Fingon into an embrace that silenced him and flashed his uncle an apologetic I'll-explain-later-unless-possibly-never look. Fëanor and Finwë were still laughing. Nerdanel only looked smug but also slightly proud, but he didn't like thinking of that either. "Yes, well. Thank you, atar. It _is_ beautiful." Though he didn't expect not to find carvings of questionable virtue somewhere on this masterpiece.

“Yes. Thank you, uncle! This is… remarkable. I cannot wait to see the finished piece. And the scene you chose is… you know how much it means to us. Thank you.” Fingon stepped forward to embrace Fëanor, and his uncle murmured something in his hear that made him flush and laugh and whisper something in return. He stepped back and took Maedhros’ hand, looking at their parents, grandfather, and Turgon. “This means so much to us. I never imagined--thank you all.”

"Yes, thank you," Maedhros agreed, pulling Turgon into a one-armed hug. Turgon had a small clip-board and was ticking things off a list.

"Well, I'm off to see to Tyelko and Kano and Irissë about the departure. You have a few more hours to eat and dance and greet the others," Turgon said, grinning as if this was going to be the best part, and snatched his list out of their line of sight. "I'll get you when it's time."

Fëanor was tugged out the door by his wife when they heard music starting up again, and Fingolfin was led out of the room by Finwë, soon followed by Anairë. For a minute, for the first time since the first part of their marriage ceremony, Fingon and Maedhros were alone. As soon as the door shut behind Anairë, Fingon had his hands around Maedhros’ back, pulling his cousin against him as he backed himself into the wall.

“Russ,” Fingon whimpered, and then they were kissing, mouths pressed together, and he could feel the flush still covering Maedhros’ face and neck as he wound his arms about his cousin, trying to touch as much as he could through their garments.

"Fin," Maedhros panted, eyes closing. "I want you now, I want you so much." He rocked against Fingon, pinning him to the wall. "I love you. I'm so happy right now. Thank you, thank you," he murmured, kissing a trail down his cheek to his neck, manhandling his lover firmly but not roughly. "We should--" said his voice of reason, distantly, though his hands had wandered down to cup Fingon's arousal, fingers splaying over the front of his trousers, "we should go back--but this is _mine_ ," another part of him protested, and his was kissing Fingon like he wanted to suck the moisture from his lips.

“Ah! R-Russ!” Fingon canted his hips forward, pressing himself into Maedhros’ hand. His lips and tongue dueled with Maedhros, and he felt his pulse racing and his desire only growing. Finally, he pressed his palms flat against Maedhros’ shoulders and pushed him back a few inches. “Valar. Oh, Russ. Yours, all yours, now and later... Want to-- but we can’t. We’re supposed to go back out. Supposed to be talking with people. But all I can think of is you, and me, and that bed.” He shook his head incredulously, looking up at his cousin. "Well, really just you-- in the end I think I could forget everything else and focus solely on you, arimeldanya."

Maedhros groaned, pulling his hand behind his back to keep it out of trouble, though he still leaned with all his weight against Fingon, and, sighing, touched him brow to brow. "Sorry," he whispered, closing his eyes. "Later. Later, I know. You're just so intoxicating. And _mine_ ," he growled, as if this was the best part.

"All yours," Fingon agreed. "And you're mine. I like you intoxicated by me--want you to _bury_ yourself in me, husband." He brushed their noses together and smiled. "Of course, I also wish to laugh and dance and celebrate with our family. And the rest of our brothers each owe me a dance!"

Maedhros stepped back, clutching himself, and sitting down to get himself under control. "I don't know if I much like the idea of you dancing with my brothers--at least one of them." He chuckled softly, taking Fingon's hand and kissing it, since that was the best he was going to get at this point. Still: "How do you like your ring?" he asked, pulling Fingon onto his lap.

Fingon went to him willingly, though their new position was not particularly conducive to getting himself under control. "It's beautiful," he whispered, holding his hand up and spinning the ring gently. "And very you. I'm proud to wear it--and I'm so, so happy it's finally on my hand." He pressed his lips to the corner of Maedhros' mouth. "Thank you."

Maedhros grinned, kissing Fingon back before looking down at the ring on his own finger. "A puzzle ring? It's beautiful, Fin. And nine strands! I'm afraid to take it off to try to put it back together." He wrapped his arms around his husband and hugged him close. "All right. I think we should go. I'm all right now."

Fingon groaned against him, but grinned as he pulled back. "We should." He stood on shaky legs, and moved to study the chests of clothing and tapestries his mother had made, trying to get back to a presentable state. "I need thee, my Russandol. I crave thy touch." He turned and gave Maedhros a half smile. "But later. Shall we?"

"Later. But if I catch you dancing with Turkafinwë--or anyone, for that matter--like you were at our betrothal party, I can't be held responsible for my actions," he smirked, pulling Fingon against him and kissing him possessively before opening up the door and walking back out to the party.

"Promises, promises," Fingon murmured. He wondered idly if Maedhros would dance with him like that--not here, but perhaps at their new house. And preferably with more actual touching, rather than the primarily visual show Celegorm had led him in. He shook his head and rejoined the group, closing the door softly behind him. Aredhel caught him by the hand almost immediately, and dragged him into a fast, lively dance which had them almost racing around the room, smiling and spinning.

There were cousins to dance with and family to talk to and drink with from all sides of the family, from Nerdanel's side of the family to Anairë's, who Maedhros didn't know well and who all ended up being lovely, of course, and Findis and her family were there, as well as Lalwen and her young family. The Finarfinions weren't so polite they were boring, and everyone generally had a grand time.

The evening wore on, and of course, it was just at Maedhros was beginning to enjoy himself properly (Finrod had brought one of his favorite games, and Maedhros was playing it with the whole family, except Artanis, who had fallen asleep), when Celegorm tapped him on the shoulder.

"Your carriage awaits, dear brother."

Maedhros blinked. "Oh, don't tell me you got an actual _carriage_?"

"A figure of speech, Nelyo," Celegorm said, tugging at his arm.

Maedhros turned apologetically to his aunt, uncle, and cousins. "Thank you all for coming. But apparently it's time for me to go." He hugged Finrod who sat next to him tightly.

"Have fun, Maitimo," Finarfin said, with a slightly suggestive twinkle in his eye.

They danced and mingled, ate and laughed until well past the dead of night and into the hours before dawn. Finally, after most attendees had gone to bed and the crowd and thinned and quieted, Turgon gave Fingon a nod--everything was ready when they wished to leave. Fingon looked around at the flowers and lights, the thousands of crystals lighting the bottom of vases and woven into the drapery, the bright sky and happy faces and the joining of Fëanor's and Fingolfin's sigils. Smiling, he excused himself from the conversation he was involved in, and went to meet Turgon.

"Everything is set?"

"We're just waiting on the two of you. Turko's gone to fetch your husband," Turgon replied as he led his brother through the festivities.

"Here," Celegorm said, and Maedhros moved like a magnet to Fingon's arms. He could hardly believe they had been separated, if for little more than an hour.

"Ready to go?" he asked him, and looked around. The area was quiet. "Shouldn't we say goodbye?"

Celegorm shrugged. "Well, the road west is just on the other side of the festivities. You could wave as you ride by. Give 'em a good fright." He chuckled.

"Tyelko!" Maedhros scolded, though it was tempting. He looked at the horses, ridiculously bedecked in flowers and crystals, bearing between them a 'Just Married' banner. "Well, we can't let your artistic skills go to waste. How about it, Fin? Hey, wait," he said, going over the horses one more time. "Where's my bag? The one I packed?"

"Right here, brother," Maglor said, running up puffing. "You hid it well enough. What's in this thing, anyway?" he asked, as Tyelko strapped it to his mare.

"Never you mind," Maedhros said, pulling himself up into the saddle and flushing.

Fingon chuckled, looking at the bag curiously as he mounted his horse. His own pack was secured on the packhorse that would be traveling with them, waiting placidly several feet away. “Really?” he asked their brothers with a grin, eyeing the glittering decorations.

“But of course,” Tugon replied with a smile. “Naturally, we wanted to send you off in style.”

Rolling his eyes, Fingon looked at Maedhros. “Ready?” he asked, turning his gaze to the last of the festivities. Their mothers and Turgon had truly done a remarkable job, and he had a feeling that if they looked back as they rode out, Finwë’s house and garden would be shining bright as a giant fallen star amid the hills and fields.

Maedhros grinned at Fingon, haloed in his own field of stars, himself a star. "I am ready," he told him, and encouraging his horse straight into a gallop with a shout, they charged through the wedding guests, hollering like mad and shouting their goodbyes. They only upset one table of food and woke Artanis, which Maedhros felt bad about, but otherwise they were laughing as they raced to the main road as shouts of good bye and well wishes followed them into the night.

When they stopped to look back, it was beautiful, like a star had crashed there and broken into millions of tiny glowing pieces. Sidling his horse up to Fingon's, he pulled his husband into a kiss, greedy and passionate. "Let's go. Huan's after us," he pointed out, and spun his horse off into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

They rode hard for a couple of hours before slowing he horses. The scenery was beautiful, and Maedhros glowed like a jewel in the dawn, but the previous day and the past evening's festivities had been exciting and draining and for Fingon, exhaustion slowly set in. As they continued to ride, he slumped down, resting his head against his mare's neck and relaxing in the position Aredhel and Celegorm would sometimes be found in resting or napping on tree branches. The horse's movements were smooth and repetitive, and without quite realizing it, Fingon fell into a light doze as they continued to move north, growing even closer to the Maitimoronti and their destination.

Maedhros guided his mare nearer and slowed their speed, both for Fingon's comfort and so he could be near in case he slipped. He was beautiful, sleeping like that, and it was almost infectious, for Maedhros felt himself yawning as well. When he was sure he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer: "Fin, Finno," he whispered, and whispered also to the horses. "I think we should stop here for the night." He slid down off his mare and relieved her of her larger burdens before turning to Fingon, who was still mostly sleeping.

“Wait--Russ, wait, please.” Fingon blinked blearily and Maedhros stopped what he was doing and turned to Fingon. “Please--I’m awake now. I’d like to keep going. I’ll stay up if you’d like to rest. Will you be willing to sleep on your lady for me? Or, we can share a horse; I’ll hold you up if you let me. But I’m…” he sighed. “I know you said you wanted us to wait for our own reasons, but I’d prefer we make good time and get there. I wish to see your mountains again, and our valley-- our lake. I don’t want to lie alone next to you while we take a break on the journey. And if we keep making good time we can get there by tomorrow evening and see our fallen stars light up on the lake as shadows creep across the valley floor.”

Maedhros smiled, threading his fingers through Fingon's hair. "Of course, my love. I don't need to rest just yet--I just thought for you." He whistled to his mare who had wandered off, and helped Fingon down and up onto her, before placing the bags from her back onto Fingon's horse. "We could ride together, if you wish?"

“For a while. But you would deny me the sight of you riding for the entire trip, would you?” Fingon slipped off his horse with soft words of thanks and praise for her. “Ah-- were you tired? Should I slip behind you so you can rest, or would you have me in your arms?”

Maedhros chuckled and slid behind Fingon. "I would have you in my arms. If I need to rest, I will do so in your hair, like this," he said, leaning forward against the back of Fingon's neck, and slid his arms forward and around his husband. "If I start to slip you can hold me here. But for now, you sleep. You look so precious when you sleep." He paused. "Though I won't be able to see you from here. Still," he shrugged, and with a whistle, they were off again.

“Thank you,” Fingon whispered. And, sure that Maedhros wouldn’t mind, he slumped against Maedhros and let himself relax. “Love you, my husband.” And when he next opened his eyes a couple of hours had passed and the sky was brighter with the shining light of the trees. He shifted, trying to figure out the strange position he was in before remembering that he was riding Maedhros’ mare, and his husband’s arm was wrapped around him holding him gently but securely. “Mara tuilë arimelda,” he yawned.

Maedros started, having been dozing slightly. "Mm. Morning," he mumbled, shaking himself awake. "I, ah, I think it might be your turn to keep watch. How are the horses?" There was a stream running parallel to them, surely they would have let him know if they had need.

“They look well. Of course, we’ve been going at a gentle pace compared to what the hunters ask of them.” Fingon turned his head back to kiss Maedhros good morning. “Love you. Do you want to switch places? I would be happy to hold you if you would like to sit back. And I think I need to thank our mothers--these are _very_ comfortable travel clothes. I’d be happy resting against you in anything, but this was especially nice.”

Maedhros grinned. "Indeed we should thank them. Though I still look forward to tearing them off you," he whispered into Fingon's neck. "And if it's all the same to you, I'd rather be here. I'll sleep forward, against you, if you can take my weight. Having you in my arms settles me. I only need to doze a few hours, I think."

"Of course--in this I am yours to command." Fingon rested his arms around Maedhros' own, and gently patted the mare's neck. "Thank you," he whispered to her, for their ride remained incredibly smooth while still making decent time. Looking around he could see the other two horses keeping within sight as they traveled along the river's edge. He began to hum softly, taking Maedhros' weight on his back and shoulders with a smile and a gentle squeeze of his hands. "Love this, love you." He moved into the song Maedhros had used to put him to sleep after he had injured his shoulder, and as they continued to ride he was warm and happy and blissfully content.

Maedhros woke some time later with his cheek pressed against Fingon's shoulder, a small puddle of drool under his open mouth. He started up. "Oh. Sorry. Where are we?" He blinked stupidly at the light. "Sorry," he said, wiping at Fingon's shoulder with his sleeve. "Well, you _had_ nice wedding garments, at a point," he chuckled.

“Hmm? Oh. It’s fine.” Fingon shook his head. “You’ve suffered through far more of my drool as I grew up. And I’m sure that will come out of the garment--I fully intend to wear these more than once. It’s late morning--we’re nearly to the family’s campsite. I have some fruit, bread and meat in my bag if you want a snack.” He rubbed Maedhros’ arm gently as his cousin finished waking.

"Mm?" he wondered blearily. "Mmm, oh, I think I'll have my breakfast right here," he teased, and bit down on Fingon's neck, licking and sucking at the junction between shoulder and throat.

“That’s dessert.” Fingon went to swat at his cousin, but instead his hand found its way into Maedhros’ hair, holding his husband against his neck as he gasped softly. Shaking his head after a minute, he tugged his lover back. “Oh, Russ. Not yet--too soon. Want to wait for tonight, once we’re there.”

Maedhros huffed, and went back for another kiss before jerking back. "I know. I'm sorry, I--I just can't keep my hands off you." He scoffed, at himself more than anything. "Bet you didn't think I would be the one to lose my self-control at the end here." He gave a soft whistle and slid off his horse. "Maybe we should switch back?" he offered, holding a hand out to Fingon.

Fingon accepted the hand and slid down. When his feet touched the ground, he closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths. “It’s probably a good idea. But, my husband, know that I want long to be in your arms.” Fingon helped to move Maedhros’ packs back, and called the pack horse over to pull out rolls, cheese, dried meat, and a couple of apples. He also grabbed their water skins, offering Maedhros one as he divided the food so that, after this short break to stretch and walk, they could eat as they continued to ride.

Maedhros also stretched, keeping a careful distance but a close eye on his husband as he munched an apple, setting the core aside for when the horses returned from water. "If I stay over here, it will be all the sweeter when I touch you again," he explained. "Also I might get carried away. Again," he said, remembering (but not with shame) being in the library alone with him last night.

“I like you getting carried away,” Fingon said with a smile. “But I do want to wait for… for tonight. Though earlier was fun. And last night was… what is it with the two of us and libraries? Do you think we enjoy them because we’ve made such wonderful memories in them, or do you think we make such lovely memories because we enjoy them so much?”

Maedhros paused to think on this, and laughed. "I am ashamed to admit I find the forbidden nature of it, ah, titillating. It's a private space, but one where we could be discovered at any moment. I do not suppose our own library at home will be quite the same," he teased, offering up his apple as the horses trotted back. "Shall we go?" he asked, pulling himself back onto his mare, checking his packs were secure.

After they had begun riding again, Fingon found himself thinking about libraries as he munched on an apple. He was also growing slightly uncomfortable in his current position. “Russ?” he called softly, and smiled as his cousin looked over. “I agree that our own library won’t be the same, but I think we can still find some incredible uses for it, don’t you? And if not,” he giggled slightly “our new bed seems to have been designed with countless opportunities in mind.” Fingon had to stop eating as he laughed long and loud thinking of the library last night. “I can’t believe your father. Or our grandfather. That was… oh that was priceless. And you would not believe how glad I am that my father had no idea what they were referring to.”

Maedhros flushed. "Oh, don't remind me. I wanted to sink into the floor. And my mother had this knowing look, it just--" he shuddered. "The less I can connect our bedroom activities with my parents and grandfather the better."

“Sorry.” Fingon rode closer and patted Maedhros’ arm lightly. “Well, at least we know how to keep you under control… unless there’s a secret exhibitionist somewhere in there that doesn’t really mind it?” Fingon refrained from pointing out where his current thoughts were leading him--Turgon had seen their gifts, and would likely show the drawings of the cabin and bed to the others. He had no doubt that Celegorm and Aredhel, at least, would understand exactly why the bed was designed as it was. Which meant it was all too likely the majority of their siblings would know before they returned. While he thought, they passed the camping area before, and were nearing the first ridge. “Let’s head through the lower pass- where we ran out last time. Is that acceptable? That way the horses can join us for the last stage of the journey and can enjoy the meadows near the lake once we arrive.”

"That sounds wonderful--I mean, your plan--not all our siblings discovering what we do on our own time," Maedhros said, and encouraged his horse slightly faster. Now that they were so close it became physically painful to be separated from Fingon. "Do you think it's normal to wait this long between ceremony and bonding?" he wondered.

“No,” Fingon answered immediately. “I don’t.” His voice was clipped as he tried to force down desire again. “Normally the party would end sooner and the bonding would be completed the same night, or early the next morning. This is… we’re just being different. And completing a promise made almost a decade ago.” He looked over at Maedhros. “You don’t regret it, do you?”

Maedhros smiled warmly, if painfully. "No. Never. I want it to be perfect. As I said I have already waited long. I only find it frustrating. Like waiting for a cake to bake--we could take it out and eat it as batter, but it would be better if we waited." He licked his lips as they rode. "Do you think we could ride faster?"

Fingon shot his husband a pained look. “Russandol? You know I love you?” Maedhros nodded, shooting him a concerned look. “ _Please_ choose a different analogy. Who in their right mind _bakes_ cookies and cake with out at least eating half the batter? And why would you say it’s better the second way?” He glanced around them. “If our ladies are willing I think we could go a little faster. We’re getting close, beloved--we should be able to get camp set up before the light from the trees recedes from the lake.”

Maedhros laughed. "Well--then catch me if you want me!" Maedhros said, and spurred his horse toward the lake, overlooked by mountain that was theirs. He laughed, looking behind him, and his mare seemed glad to be given free rein to run with.

Fingon spoke softly to his horse, and soon she was racing after Maedhros’ larger steed, the packhorse keeping pace beside her. Smiling, Fingon leaned forward, leaning against her neck and enjoying the wind on his skin as they raced towards his future and a night he had been dreaming of for decades. “A little faster?” he begged softly. “You’ll love it there… meadows that move in the wind like rollers on the sea, and clear fresh streams that make beautiful music as they head towards the lake. It’s tranquil, and beautiful.”

And they were there. As he slowed his mare Maedhros practically tumbled off her and into the grass, like a mariner rediscovering land after too long at sea. Part of him desired, already, to tears Fingon's clothes from his body and have him, right here, right now, but instead he leapt up and fumbled with the packs, sorting out bedrolls--well, one large bedroll--and food and--oil, that was important. His hands shook suddenly, though he was giddy, and he dropped the things he was carrying in the grass. "Sorry," he mumbled, grinning stupidly. "Just excited."

Fingon slid down, and moved immediately to Maedhros, smiling and taking his husband’s shaking hands in his own and stilling him. “Russ? Could you help me?” He rubbed Maedhros hands with his thumbs and once he had his cousin’s attention, he continued. “Our waterskins are almost empty, and I don’t really want to fill them with our star water. There was a stream, a little ways down the east side of the lake- remember, we crossed it before our cliff diving excursion? Could you fill them both for me? Please?” And the gently entreaty was such that his husband could not deny it, especially when tonight of all nights Fingon asked for so simple a thing.

After Maedhros had left, Fingon fell to his knees momentarily, trying to stop his own shaking and overcome his nerves. Biting his lip, he began sorting out their gear, shaking out the bedding and laying it out, a bright white spot against the surrounding valley that he bedecked with soft flowers and petals. Food could wait for later-- they had been snacking throughout the day on the dried meat and rolls. He reverently set the oil at the head of their makeshift bed, and pulled out robes for later. Then he made his way to the lake to wash off the dust and sweat that had settled on him during the ride.

Maedhros nodded, moving away to fill the waterskins, and helplessly grateful for the space between them. He had spent so much of his time--so much of his life, really--waiting for this moment, that knowing that it would soon be culminating in a consummation of their total love and devotion was--was, well, it was frightening. He paced around for a few moments, at first focused on pulling himself back together, thinking he had to be in control of this or it wasn't going to go well. He was afraid to get it wrong, somehow, or hurt Fingon, or not please him, and paced faster.

After filling the skins and washing up in the cold water, he sat in contemplation. This wasn't, he reminded himself, about the copulation. This was bonding. And, more important than that, this was Findekáno, this was his connection to him. He wasn't concerned at all about that. He wasn't at all worried about it, and it was, in fact, the only thing he ever knew he really wanted. Straightening, breathing carefully, he turned back to where Fingon was.

Fingon was tempted to dress himself in a jeweled white robe and wait for Maedhros on their bed, but he kept his husband's-- _husband's!_ \--wish to unclothe him in mind and redressed carefully in his wedding costume. Not wanting to rumple the bedding, he spread out the rectangle of fabric the sheets had been rolled in and knelt on it, removing his boots and sitting back on his ankles, relaxing as he waited for Maedhros.

He wet his lips thinking of what the next hours would bring--a bond he had yearned for and waited to have for over half his life. His fingers tapped restlessly as he recalled the few arguments he and Russ had, the times games and plans went awry, the fear that kept returning--that Russ would realize he could do so much better, that he deserved more than Fingon, trying his best, could provide. But as the light of the trees began to wane Fingon thought of their promises here at the lake and elsewhere in Aman. He thought of Maedhros patching his scraped knee as a child, and carrying him into the kitchen the first time he was hungover. He remembered Maedhros throwing himself physically and metaphorically between Fingon and Finwë, Fëanor, Fingolfin--anyone Maedhros feared would be angry with him. And Fingon settled where he sat, hands stilling and fingers uncurling as he thought of Maedhros promising him forever and exclaiming over the beauty of his ring, placing Fingon on a pedestal but later yielding up his hröa and fëa, placing himself in Fingon's hands. This was right, and good, and Fingon would never step back from something that could bring him closer to his other half. Tonight would be perfect because it was Maedhros and it was him. And even if his husband returned and said he was tired and he wanted to wait... as long as he could hold his best friend again, everything would be good, would be perfect. He smiled softly, turning his head to look out over the lake as he waited for his husband.

Maedhros saw Fingon before Fingon saw him, and all but gasped at the beauty he witnessed. His husband was kneeling by their bedroll, as perfect in form as in appearance. Any lingering doubts or nervousness fell away, and, "Findekáno," he called from across the space between them, and moved quickly to him, taking his hands and pulling him to his feet. "Meldanya," he whispered, cupping his face in his palm, "melindo, venno. I love thee."

Fingon turned as Maedhros called him, and his breath caught at the sight of his husband dressed in white, glistening garments, shining brightly in the fading light. His heart sped at Maedhros' touch, and raced at his words. He leaned into his husband's palm, relishing even that small contact. "Russandol." He spoke lowly and reverently, raising his hand to cup Maedhros' cheek in a mirror image. "My light, my life, my world... my husband. There are no words great enough to encompass my love for thee."

Breath catching as if he were slightly surprised this was really happening, Maedhros dipped his head to capture Fingon's lips in a gentle, chaste kiss. "Are you ready, Finno?" he whispered.

Eyes shining, and with shiver of desire at Maedhros’ words, Fingon looked up at his lover. “I have been ready for years,” he whispered. “And I am yours, if you like of me.” He took a deep breath, back straightening slightly. “Please, my Russandol--I want you inside me, filling me.”

Maedhros sucked in a deep breath, and nodded eagerly. "I will. Oh, Findekáno I will," and it felt so wonderful to say that that he took Findekáno in his arms and kissed him deeply, bending him over nearly backwards as he pressed their bodies flush together.

“Ruusss!” Fingon clung to Maedhros pulling and pressing, trying desperately to get closer. “Two. Days.” He groaned. “Two days of being around you and in your arms and sharing vows and sharing a horse without any relief. Two days since I’ve come, Russ.”

Maedhros smiled wickedly. "Good," he said, and, holding Fingon behind his head and at his waist, he curled his leg around the backs of Fingon's knees and swept him off his feet, laying him gently back and crawling on top of him, their lips joined together.

Fingon’s eyes fluttered closed as he felt Maedhros’ weight over him finally--finally. His breathing quickened and he felt his blood rushing south and though he had been calm and prepared and peaceful but a moment ago, all thoughts were flying from his mind. He raised his arm trailing his hand through the fallen strands of Maedhros’ hair. “Maitimo--I need you.”

"You shall have me," Maedhros promised, his voice rasping slightly. "But first I have to unwrap this perfect wedding present," he said, unbuttoning Fingon's collar and nipping at his neck. He placed his knee between Fingon's legs and applied a slight pressure, and his hands danced down the rows of buttons, dexterously unknotting ties.

“Mmm. Please. And do I get to unwrap you, meldanya?” Fingon’s hips rose slightly, pressing him against the thigh Maedhros had slid against him.

"Yes, yes, hurry," Maedhros said, in between kissing him. "Eru, you're so beautiful. So soft and shining and warm and--I love your nose," he said suddenly, poking it with his finger, "have I ever told you that? You have such a cute nose."

Blushing, Fingon shook his head and smiled at Maedhros. He began to work on the ties and laces that suddenly seemed to cover Maedhros and take far too much effort to undo. “I’m tempted to just rip it off,” he grumbled jokingly as he teased open the shirt, and ducked his head to trail kisses along the revealed skin. His hips were moving without his consent, pressing into his lover’s thigh with a gentle rocking motion.

"Do, we'll fix them later, I don't care," Maedhros said, and tugged Fingon's shirt off his shoulders before starting in on his trousers--but here he stopped, or slowed, anyway, enjoying the feel of his cock trapped as it was by the tight material of their wedding garments. "I'll have to speak to your mother," he chuckled: "she should have made the ties in the back of yours."

Fingon moaned as Maedhros stroked him. He bit off the sound at first, but they were alone, and in their own valley, and this was their wedding night. He moaned louder, and lowered his hands to cover Maedhros’, pressing them over him. “Oh! Ah. Do you, do you really want to explain why?” he asked with a laugh. “May I?” His hands drifted to the hem of Maedhros’ shirt, and he began to pull it off.

Maedhros huffed, and nodded, a bit impatiently, and raised his arms to allow Fingon to tug his shirt off, but he grabbed Fingon's wrist before he could untie the laces on his breeches. "I want you entirely prepared for me before I am fully undressed," he said, with some sternness. "I do not wish to risk hurting you."

“Russandol… you couldn’t. You never have, and you won’t.” Fingon leaned up further, and embraced Maedhros, holding him tightly. “If that is what you wish, of course we can. But I know you wouldn’t hurt me either way.” He lay back, spreading his arms and stretching them out among the petals. “I’m all yours,” he said, unnecessarily, as the invitation was clear.

"That doesn't mean you have to stop touching me," Maedhros said, grinning as he bent down to ravish his throat. "If I wanted you entirely helpless and _mine_ , you would be--and you will be--later. Now--" he said, and, grabbing the front of Fingon's leggings, pulled them down the length of his legs, stripping him in one movement. He moaned at the sight of Fingon springing to attention, and huffed in giddy delight.

“Yours,” Fingon whimpered in agreement. “Already. And later.” He brought a hand back to Maedhros’ hair, tanging it in the locks that weren’t bound up. “Valar, Russ. I don’t--maybe it’s because we’ve been teasing so long, or because it’s tonight, but… ‘m already so hard, melda! I’m desperate for you. I--do you feel like this, also?” He studied Maedhros, who was watching Fingon but who seemed steady and perfectly in control.

"Yes. Oh, yes, venno," he breathed, pausing to press their brows together. "Do not let the illusion fool you. Here," he said, and took Fingon's hand, and pressed it flat over his naked chest. "Do you feel how fast my heart is going? It beats for you, my love. And this is my first vow--" he shifted to the high accent, "that my heart will ever beat only for you." Pressing forward, he sealed the vow with a kiss.

Fingon’s eyes shone as he looked from his hand on Maedhros’ chest to his lover’s face, and he chased Maedhros’ lips as they moved away. When he pulled back, he let their brows rest against each other as he took Maedhros’ hand and pulled it to his own chest. “I am yours as you are mine,” he murmured, using the high accent as well. “And so I vow, that my heart will ever beat only for you.” He kissed Maedhros, adding outside the vow, “as it has only ever beaten for you, my first, my only, my love.”

Maedhros smiled, shaking with happiness at the answer so lovingly given, and he felt a new level, or perhaps a new kind, of love unlocking in his breast. He took Fingon's hand and kissed it.

Fingon wrapped his free hand around Maedhros’ neck and pulled him in for a soft kiss. “More?” he asked. “Would you touch me?” And he dropped his own hands, brushing against Maedhros’ desire where he was straining against his breeches.

Maedhros hissed, eyes rolling back. "Yes, gladly," he said, for the first time since their wedding touching his naked arousal. "Tell me what you want from me," he whispered. "Tell me what filthy things you desire--and what sweet things you desire--" he released his hold only long enough to dip into the pot of oil, slicking his hand before returning. His other arm provided a pillow for Fingon's head and held his weight up over him.

Shaking, Fingon could barely breath let alone speak as he felt Maedhros hands on him and his husband’s arm under him. His lover was everywhere, everything, and Fingon trembled in his arms. “Everything,” he gasped. “Anything. Want you to take me slowly, to… to stop inside me and make us both wait like that because the wait will only make our completion the sweeter. I want you to take me tenderly, like I’m the thing you care about most and I am precious to you. And I want you to take me hard, and fast, to take me for yourself, because I am yours and because I ache to be filled by you. I want so much, Russandol.” He brushed his fingers across Maedhros face, and brushed their lips together. “My husband,” he said suddenly, running a hand down Maedhros' side, “for my first vow--I will cherish you, and care for you as you have ever cared for me. I will ever seek to keep you safe, and well, and hold your hröa more precious than my own.” He pulled Maedhros to him, and sealed the vow with another kiss."

Maedhros groaned into the kiss, dizzied as much by Fingon's dirty talk as by the solemn vow, and he nodded, pulling back enough to repeat, before the words were gone from his head: "I am yours as you are mine. I will cherish you, and care for you as you have cared for me. I will ever seek to keep you safe and well, and hold your hröa more precious than my own." This one made him want to cry, though he wasn't sure why, and he pressed their cheeks together as he began stroking Fingon with slow, steady pulls.

Fingon’s head dropped back slightly and he gasped, mouth falling open. “O-ohRuss. My Russ. Husband.” He shuddered, almost closer than he wanted to be, though Maedhros grip was loose and steady. “Tyë-melin.” He tilted his head to press their cheeks together again, rubbing against his lover. “Tyë-melin. How I love thee. What- what would you like from me? May I ask that of you also-- some filthy things and sweet things that you desire?”

"Mmn, yes," Maedhros said, "I desire to torture you sweetly, to drive you mad with desire. I would have you so that you have no moment of peace, no moment where you did not desire me, where you were not aroused, even to distraction, even after I have already milked everything from you. I would have you sleep like that, and I would touch you while you sleep, and when you wake I would already be enjoying you. I would like that." He spoke between kisses like this, between strokes.

“Nnngh. Already… already am. Just--be careful. Please. If you would give me one thing this night--I want to reach the peak the first time with you inside me.” Fingon jerked in Maedhros’ hand. “The… the last that you would you? I--I willingly give myself over for y-your pleasure. Ruuusssss… Will I wake up one morning with you inside me?” His eyes rolled back in pleasure at the thought.

Maedhros laughed. "Only one?" He kissed Fingon's neck and withdrew his hand, coating his fingers in oil: "Now I'm afraid I must be unromantic and ask you to focus on the mechanics. I think it would be easier if you were, ah, on your hands and knees, and I was, ah, behind. I think we could, if you would rather, you could put your legs on my shoulders."

“Shoulders,” Fingon said immediately. “Please, Russ. I’ve already had several fingers in me at one time. I understand the mechanics… but I want to see your face. We should see each other, when we do this. Later, later you can have me however you wish. But this time I need to see you, need to kiss you.” He lifted a leg agilely, and raised it up, under Maedhros’ arm and onto his shoulder.

Maedhros raised an eye, impressed at Fingon's agility, and smiled, showing all his teeth. "Good, all right," he said, and prodded the area with slicked fingers, massaging at his entrance but not probing him yet. "All right?" he checked, kissing him. "I vow always to bow before your desires, and yield always to your word." He blurted this out, almost too quickly. "I would be ruled by you."

Only Russ would take the greatest position of strength imaginable--teasing Fingon without even being willing to enter him and grant that small relief, and vow submission. Fingon bit back a sob as his husband’s finger slipped slightly, almost breaching him. “Tyë-melin, my prince. As you are mine, I am yours. I vow--“ his breath hitched, but this was acceptable, even such a vow as this, for once they were bonded, would not their desires be the same? “I vow always to bow before your desires, and yield always to your word.” Telperion, Laurelin, he never wanted to hurt his lover, his best friend, his prince. And please, Eru, he prayed, let it be the first--let him see Maedhros’ desires rather than continue until his lover had to _ask_ him to stop or change, to act or retreat. “I would be ruled by you,” he murmured, looking directly into his husband’s eyes, and he kissed Maedhros reverently, hoping that his lover was in tune with him in this moment, and understood what he meant with his vow.

"As you are mine, I am yours--" Maedhros repeated, locking eyes with him and feeling--almost hearing--whether it was through the strain in his voice or the nearness of their bond--he could feel Fingon's hesitation, his need for clarification. He could read his concern, and, saw a flash of fear: "I liked the ice, Fin," he whispered, "I promise. And I always trust you, and I always desire you. We could change the words?"

“Said and said, the vow is complete,” Fingon replied, shaking his head. “Sorry, I just…” he shrugged. “I believe you. And thank you. And I will always trust you, and always talk to you. I can almost just _know_ sometimes-- I knew you spoke truly just now. But I do agree with the vow--I wish always to recognize your desires and to never harm you. And I would give anything--even my life--to see you well. Rule you?” Fingon looked up at Maedhros, as serious as he had ever been. “Haven’t you realized that you’re _everything_?”

"As you are my everything. I suppose the vow is rendered moot once we are bonded and share our desires," he shrugged, and as he bent to kiss Fingon, he pressed one finger inside him, up to a knuckle, and withdrew it, and pressed again. "Tyë-melin."

“Tyë--melin.” Fingon blushed as his voice broke on the response, and he keened as Maedhros’ finger moved inside him. “Assistance,” he whispered, pressing against Maedhros’ hand and canting his hips up push more of his cousin inside of him. “I vow assistance to you, and aid should you need or want it. You spend so much time taking care of others, and I love you for it, Russ. You mean so much to so many, but they often leave you tired, though I know you wouldn’t change it for the world. So, my caretaking and teacher, negotiator and unifier, whether you need someone to see to your own needs, or help take care of someone or something else, if by learning or doing a thing, by debating an issue with you or letting you bounce ideas off me, should you need my strength, my voice, my body, they are yours at need.” He leaned up, off the sheet, and kissed Maedhros gently before falling back with a soft moan.

"As you are mine, I am yours," Maedhros said, and, "assistance," he echoed, though he flushed at Fingon's description of him. "I vow to accept your assistance when I will take no other's--and, as always, I vow assistance to you, and aid should you need or want it, and should you need my strength, my voice, or my body, they are yours." He kissed Fingon, and pressed his finger all the way inside, searching out, and finding, and rubbing against, the bundle of nerves inside him.

Fingon blinked back tears, desperately ready for this, for Maedhros. "Mmmmm. Russ. Russandol! There! Ah, l-love thee, I love thee." Fingon whimpered, shifting his hips to try to force Maedhros' hand back to that perfect spot inside him. "P-please my love, my lord, my everything… more? " He met Maedhros eyes as he shifted his hips in a circle, seeking more friction, wanting to prepare himself for something larger.

Maedhros nodded shortly, looking down now, mind dominated again by mechanics. He had, ah, measured, previously, himself, in anticipation of this, and stretching Fingon with three fingers would still be tight. "More," he agreed, for Fingon's pleasure reverberated against him, warming him as nearly as his own pleasure. He slicked his fingers again, and added a second, moving slowly, for it was tight. "There, how's that?" he checked, kissing a bead of sweat off Fingon's brow.

“Good.” Fingon looked up begging for a kiss, and Maedhros happily complied. “It’s tight, but you know I can take more.” He hummed, thinking back to the day of the hunting incidents. “Don’t forget, you promised to put your entire hand in me sometime. Maybe sometime soon, when we’re in a hot bath. Would you like that?” Fingon smiled up at Maedhros, fingers trailing across his lover’s nape. “You could just put a finger inside me, and everything would be slick and smooth. And you’d add another… and another. Another. And eventually you’d just _push_ and…” he trailed off suggestively. “I bet I could. I want to try that with you. I want you so deep in me, Russandol.”

"I--" Maedhros licked his lips, sweating himself, and twitching interestedly at the reminder. "I just want to manage my cock for now, if that's all right with you," he huffed, and he kissed Fingon into silence when he laughed. He scissored his fingers carefully to stretch him, withdrew for more oil, and pressed three fingers inside. "One more vow. Can you wait until I'm inside you?" Maedhros wasn't sure he could wait.

Biting his lip, Fingon nodded. When he had relaxed slightly and become accustomed to three fingers, he looked up at his husband and gave him a relaxed, mischievous grin. “You just want to manage your cock?” he asked. And then, in a velvety tone, “I thought that belonged to me, now, dearest husband.”

Maedhros laughed. "Yes, well, _yours_ , then, if I may?" Kissing Fingon's brow he sat himself up, and using his free arm hoisted Fingon's leg up over his shoulder. "I need you stretched and relaxed," he said, leaning down a few times, stretching the limb, before going down entirely and returning to his former position. "All right?" he checked again, kissing across his face.

“Of course.” Fingon leaned up and kissed the tip of Maedhros’ nose with a smile before falling back onto the downy bedding and causing a few flower petals to fly up. “Russandol,” he said, looking at his cousin with a smile, though his voice was serious. “I am yours. Take me.”

"Not yet, one more," Maedhros said, withdrawing his fingers entirely, and slathering them in oil as he added a fourth finger, slowly, but forcefully. His thrusts in and out were beginning to make satisfying squelching sounds, and he was sure Fingon was prepared enough. "All right, help me with my trousers," he ordered, as if he suddenly remembered he had a body and it had needs.

Fingon mewled, but he forced his hands where Maedhros wanted them and began unlacing the trousers as quickly as his shaking fingers could manage. When he was finished, he began yanking them down so that his lover could kick them off. “Please, Russandol. Please arimeldanya. Need you. I ache for you.” He squirmed as Maedhros removed his hand and wrapped his arms around Maedhros. “I feel so empty,” he whispered, sounding half broken.

"And I feel incomplete without you," Maedhros assured him, kissing Fingon's neck as he squirmed out of his pants. He needed no encouragement to full hardness, though he gave himself a quick pass with the oil, just to make sure. "All right," he said, lining himself up, shaking with desire and nervousness. "Are you ready?" he asked, withdrawing his fingers.

Reaching down, Fingon brushed his fingers across Maedhros once, closing his eyes in pleasure as he touched the silky skin for the first time in days. “I’ve been waiting for decades, husband. Now. Please.” He bit his lip almost hard enough to bleed as Maedhros pressed against him, pushing through the resistance and slipping the tip of his arousal inside. This was tight, and it burned but it felt solid and real and it was _Maedhros_. He clenched one hand in his lover’s hair and twisted the other in the sheets as he panted and gasped. Steeling himself, he forced his hips upward, taking Maedhros deeper. And when his husband brushed a spot deep within him, Fingon screamed.

"Ahh--hhhnnnnhh," Maedhros groaned, taken over by his own desire, "hush, hush, my love, I have you," he said, concerned--but not really, because he could feel Fingon's pleasure, could Fingon not feel this, too?--and stopped his movements, seated less than half inside him. Already it was glorious, and he wanted more, his own desires suddenly flaring up, but he forced himself to remain still. "Ah, my love, my love, venno Findekáno. This is--you are--are you all right?"

Fingon nodded, then spoke through gritted teeth. “Keep going.” He brought his free leg up, wrapping it around Maedhros’ hips and tried to pull his cousin deeper. “Valar, Russ. _Please_!” He could feel Maedhros above him and around him and in him. Looking at his husband, Fingon could swear he felt him in the back of his mind, a red force that throbbed with desire and need.

"Ugh, you feel that?" Maedhros gasped. "We're so close, I can--I can feel you--" he pressed in, another inch, but not all the way. "Vows, Findekáno, more, one more, we must--I--uuhhh, you feel so good!" He growled into Fingon's ear, kissing and biting him there.

“Deeper,” Fingon urged. “Deeper. When you’re all the way in… we’ll finish the vows.” He grabbed Maedhros’ head and tugged him down, leg bending easily, until he could captured his husband’s mouth with his own, slotting their lips together and delving his tongue to tangle against Maedhros’ own in a wet, sloppy kiss. He held Maedhros to him tightly as he felt his cousin slip in a little deeper, pressing into areas where Fingon had never been touched.

Maedhros gasped and struggled, but it was futile, and he now felt more that he was being pulled deeper than he was thrusting of his own power. "Uhh, Finno," he moaned, dizzy with the sensations, and now he could actually _hear_ Fingon distantly begging him more deeper harder. "Fin, I--I'm going to--" but he had already slid all the way, and was surprised how easy it was, how comfortable it was to be resting fully inside him, how he had wanted this for _so long_. He crushed his eyes shut and tightened his arms around Fingon and clenched his teeth, riding out the pleasure that threatened to erupt in him. "Oh, Eru," he sighed. He didn't dare to move for fear he would go off early--or hurt Fingon.

Suddenly Maedhros was on him, weighing him down, and buried inside him to the hilt. Fingon moaned into his lover’s hair and tried not squirm he. He ached and he was crushed against Maedhros, but he could not bother to focus on his own arousal. Instead all that mattered was where they were joined, where they were one, and he could--he could... “Russ,” he sobbed. “Russ I can feel your heartbeat. I can feel your heart _inside of me_.” He squeezed his husband tighter, swallowing roughly. This what he had been waiting for, what he had ached for, and Maedhros wasn’t even moving yet.

"Give me your vow, sweet one, your final vow," Maedhros begged, their breath mingling hot. Tears stung his eyes at Fingon's words and his--emotions, he could feel Fingon’s heart weeping with love, and it was so beautiful it stole his breath. "Or would you have mine first?"

“Forever,” Fingon sobbed as Maedhros moved. “My final vow is forever, and I swear to thee, my fëa shall be joined to thine by choice and by solemn promise. Even should our hröar be destroyed I would find thee or wait for thee. I vow to be your husband, your other half. Your needs and wants shall be mine, as mine shall be yours. Where one leads, the other shall follow. No power shall sunder us but for a small time. Tenn’ ambar meta, Nelyafinwë Maitimo Russandol, and even beyond time itself, I am yours, hröa, mind, and fëa.”

Fingon took a stuttering breath, and pressed his lips to Maedhros’. And suddenly he could _feel_ as Maedhros felt, and he was at once giving and taking, plunging into tight heat and accepting his husband into his core. He was looking up into the most beautiful being he had ever seen, and looking down at a dark haired elf that shone, radiant amid a halo of stars with dilated, lust-filled eyes and slender, toned muscles. The ner looked up curiously, and it suddenly struck Fingon that the Elda he was looking at was himself--that this was how Maedhros saw him. Looking up at Maedhros again, Fingon held his husband to him and clenched around Maedhros, embracing him tightly with arms and leg and clenching around him. His eyes opened wide and he gasped even as Maedhros tensed and shuddered at the movement, as Fingon felt sweet, clinging heat around Maedhros and as his husband’s pulse jumped.

"Ai--ffuhh--Fin!" Maedhros cried, shuddering around and _in_ Fingon, groaning at the overstimulation. He was lost, for a moment, disoriented, he was above Fingon as well as below him, lying in a bed of flowers--unless he, too, was Fingon. And then the feeling ebbed away, and he latched onto the moment of clarity to speak: "As you are mine, I am yours," he said, but skipped ahead to his own vow, fearing he had not enough time.

"For my final oath, I name Eru Iluvatar, Allfather, as witness, and here I pledge my very fëa to you. You have my love and my fealty. Now I swear that neither law nor league of swords shall break my love for you, and no power, neither Eldar or Ainur or Aftercomer, will ever sunder our fëa forever," he kissed Fingon, and slid his hips shallowly, in and out--and felt--began to feel--he was penetrated, too, to his very core. "I am yours, tenn’ ambar-metta," he gasped.

"Ru-Ruuuuss!" Fingon pressed into his husband's movements as much as he could, and slowly they found their rhythm together.    Fingon pressed his lips together and breathed through his nose, soft, high noises still escaping him. He clung to Maedhros, desperate, needing, and overwhelmed with feelings of home and warm and safe. And love-- so much love, Maedhros' and his own, and he would never be alone again, never be cold again-- how could he be with his husband's feelings burning through him? And his words... Fingon could barely believe the oath he had taken.

"Russ," Fingon begged. "Together, always." And he closed his eyes, trying to use his husband's exact words, for the vow walked the edge of heresy but for good or ill he would swear it with his lover. And sworn or not, he could not deny the truth of the words, which echoed deep in his heart and mind. "I name Eru Iluvatar, Allfather, as witness, and here I pledge my fëa to you. You have my love and you have my fealty. I swear that neither law nor league of swords shall break my love for you, and no power, neither Eldar nor Ainur nor Aftercomer, will sunder our fëa forever." He gasped and encouraged Maedhros to move faster. "I am yours, tenn’ ambar-metta," he gasped. "I am yours beyond time. Russ, please!"

There was a rush, like a great wind blowing through a house, or the roar of a wave crashing against a cliff face, and Maedhros was inside Fingon all at once, the physicality of their union second to the overwhelming knowledge of unified souls. "Ai, Finno--Ffinn--nuhh," he cried out at the feeling of being penetrated, of being open, pierced, wounded to his heart, and knowing Fingon only could fill it. There was almost something narcissistic about this, for he couldn't tell where Fingon ended and he began: and in this moment Maedhros loved himself more than he had ever before, because he knew with complete certainty that he was Fingon's entire happiness, just as Fingon was his. His world narrowed and reduced to one that could not exist without Fingon. "Close, Fin, close," he gasped, though he didn't need to. Fingon's pleasure was feeding his pleasure, which was feeding Fingon's, and with each wave they crested higher and higher. His lips had forgotten how to kiss, his body unable to move but for the movements Fingon begged him for.

Fingon couldn't speak-- he could barely remember how to breathe- but he rocked against Maedhros, body open and welcoming and desperate for more, deeper, Maedhros. He pressed their cheeks together, holding Maedhros as if his lover was the only thing keeping him from flying apart. "Close," he croaked, and Fingon focused on the warm, red presence in his mind.

And here, safe and taken and held tight in his lover's arms, he opened his mind, his thoughts, inviting Maedhros to see, to have, everything--his fears and hopes and wishes and dreams, his pain and his pleasure, and his love. He tried to push towards Maedhros the love of a toddler reaching for a bright, smiling face surrounded by a mane of red hair; a boy giving worthless sparkling rocks to his fellow adventurer who treated them like priceless gems; a young man realizing there was but one Elda he would ever desire; a husband who wished to share anything and everything with his willing partner, who would give or suffer anything to see Maedhros happy and well. Tyë-melin, he thought. Tyë-melin tenn' ambar-meta arimeldanya, my Russandol. I am yours. And you are mine. Close. I love you.

Maedhros felt the tears dropping onto Fingon's face before he realized he was crying, and closing his eyes he nuzzled them away, revealing flashes of a child's first love, of a child who learned how to love, how to care for others merely by giving them a fraction of the love he bore, instinctively, for Fingon, of the swell in his heart when his arms made a baby Fingon stop crying, of those rocks that _were_ precious gems when gifts from Fingon, even unashamed of baser desires as Fingon grew, of taking pride in himself and his work only when Fingon smiled up at him. Tyë-melin, he replied, tenn' ambar-metta, arimeldanya. And he almost didn't want this to end, but he had no fears, since they were to be joined to the end of the world, so, _Finish with me_.

Yes, Fingon thought, _now_. He yanked on Maedhros' hair, and the minor pain only edged them closer. Everything was bright and pleasurable and he never wanted to lose this feeling--and even as he thought that he felt Maedhros' assurance he never would. Soon he was tumbling over the edge, hips stuttering, body arching up to his lover, his husband, his world. "Russandol! Russ!" His scream spread through the night, unimaginably loud after speaking through thought alone. And then, untouched, Fingon was releasing, painting Maedhros and himself and tightening repeatedly around his lover. His breath caught as Maedhros continued to pound into him, arousal rubbing incessantly where it brought Fingon the greatest pleasure.

Maedhros was already spending, still plowing into his lover, his husband, his life, milking himself and stimulating Fingon throughout. He was weeping silently into Fingon's hair, for he was witness to a new level of beauty and unity with his love, his primary reason for living. As his hips jerked sporadically to completion, he squeezed Fingon, unable to let go, and kissed him all across his face, and slowed his movements, sighing gently. "Ai, venno Findekáno, arimeldanya, tyë-melin, tyë-melin," he whispered between the kisses, and finally, after what seemed like many minutes later, he pulled out of Fingon, but the spell was unbroken. "I can still feel you," he said, and giggled like a small child (like Fingon discovering butterflies for the first time), and lay down beside his lover.

Fingon cried at the loss as Maedhros pulled out of him, and turned on his side, following Maedhros and tightening his hold on his husband. He could still feel him, was still joined to him more deeply than he had thought possible, and yet... Physically he felt terribly empty and his legs and hips shifted, trying to get accustomed to the loss. He moaned and moved slightly against his husband, sharing his laughter as he rubbed their noses together slightly. "You're following through with your filthy thoughts from earlier," he said quietly. "I still need you desperately, vennonya, and I'm not sure if I shall ever stop." He grinned, suddenly, a mischievous thought moving across their bond. "I hope you can keep up with me, melindo."

"Keep up with you?" he repeated, laughing, and hitched his leg up over Fingon's thighs and pulling him closer with a playful growl. "Findekáno, my entire plot hinges on exhausting you first, and how do you expect me to do that if I do not think I can keep up with you?" He laughed and bit into the meaty part of his lover's shoulder, rolling on top of him again and worrying his teeth up to the points of Fingon's ears. "Do you want to go again?" he asked, but he was already touching Fingon, for he knew the answer.

Fingon gasped when Maedhros moved him, and reached down to take his lover lightly in hand in lieu of a verbal response. There was something wonderful about Russ laughing and teasing him--proving that in gaining a husband he had not lost his best friend. He shifted and moaned at the sensation the movement produced. "You're in me," he said reverently. "Husband, I can feel your seed shifting inside me." And when Maedhros gasped it was his turn to act and he nipped and sucked at his husband's neck, leaving a mark higher and darker than he had dared when they were around their family. "Thank you," he whispered in Maedhros' ear s he trailed kissed to it. "Thank you. This means so much to me--I've always wanted this night, Russandol. I dreamed of having you take me long before I thought you might want me in return. I love you. So very much."

"And I you," Maedhros answered, though with a quick kiss he pulled away, crouching between Fingon's legs to get a good look at his entrance--first, to check for damage, or even redness or irritation--and found none--but second, and more importantly, to see his own seed leaking from the loosely puckered lips. "It's beautiful," he moaned, pressing a white drop back inside with his finger. "You're beautiful," he added, and, 'I made that,' was implicit and not a little bit smug. It matched, in an odd sort of way, the purple bruise on his throat: a mark of ownership, and it was highly erotic. He leaned forward to swipe his tongue over the area, trying to ignore the taste of mingled oil and his seed but wanting to be gentle with Fingon so soon after the first time.

Fingon whined as his lover touched him, and his entrance fluttered under Maedhros' tongue. He twisted the sheets below him so hard he was surprised they did not tear. "'m not the beautiful one, Maitimo." And Fingon sent him an image of Maedhros as Fingon saw him, and he was glorious and tall with a face both strong and kind and hands equally capable of forging materials, holding a blade, and lifting toddler Angrod. Fingon smiled, thinking that he could get used to this bond and that it would incredibly helpful when his mouth was put to some other use than talking.

Maedhros huffed against his skin, and he almost laughed, but for the solemnity of the image. "You really see me so?" he asked, and took another swipe with his tongue, probing within him. "Even now?" he whispered, breath hot between Fingon's legs.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes.” He shifted against Maedhros as warm breath moved tantalizingly across him. “Oh, Russ. Valar. Don’t you--don’t you like the sight of me between your legs? How could I like it any less?” Fingon wished he _could_ see him like this, and shared a vague idea of a mirrored ceiling with his husband. “Wish I could really see you now, arimelda. You are… you are glorious, always.”

Fingon wondered if his husband would sit for him in _their_ library one day, stretched and languid and touching himself, and let Fingon draw him. He held to his view that if other Noldor knew what his husband looked like… that would fly from all corners of Aman to use him as inspiration for their work. Not that Fingon would share such a painting, but… perhaps they could keep it in their bedroom, someplace private where only they would see it.

Maedhros laughed again, hearing something of these thoughts, and his cheeks flushed. "Oh, Finno. You're going to make me proud to overweening." He licked his way up his body and kissed his lips. "I would have you ever be my mirror. Well-shaped my mother called me, but I have never felt so beautiful as when I see myself in your eyes." He kissed him again, and then got up on his hands and knees over him. "Now turn over. I want you to imagine me more beautiful than I ever could be while I have you from behind."

“Not yet one night bonded, and you ask the impossible of me, melda.” Fingon turned willingly underneath Maedhros, and was proud that only shook a little as raised himself onto his hands and knees. “For I do not believe there is anything in this world--and I do not believe I can imagine anything--more beautiful than you are. I would ever be your mirror, though, if you would like to see yourself through other eyes. I told you once, you are as a star lit with an inner fire, and everyone you see is more beautiful in your eyes, for you see your own light reflected off them. But being at the center, being that which emits light, you are unable to see how you yourself shine.”

Maedhros hummed, easing Fingon's hair to one side and kissing the back of his neck, and slid his hand down to hold his throat, to tilt his head up so he could kiss him (though he left his hand there, on Fingon's warm neck, where he could feel his pulse rising), and then guided him to bare his throat so he could kiss a dark bruise on his neck, and growled low. He rubbed himself (already--unless still--hard) between Fingon's legs. "How beautiful am I now? As beautiful as you, soft and yielding to me?"

Fingon made a noise in the back of his throat loving the gentle pressure of Maedhros’ hand on his neck. And he relaxed, able to feel Maedhros’ desire and pleasure in this. He wanted to please his husband, to yield to him, and he relished Maedhros’ guidance as his lover positioned his head, his neck, and then slid his legs further apart as he rubbed against him. “More--more beautiful than I could ever be. You are _achingly_ beautiful, Maitimo, and you make me want to yield to you.” He turned his head slightly, rubbing back against his husband as he shamelessly begged for a kiss. "And I--do I please you, also?"

"Oh, Findekáno, _you_ ," he breathed, tightening his hand around his neck possessively, "you are everything." He kissed him tenderly, along his back and cheeks and shoulders, content to rub between his legs. "You are strong, every muscle perfectly formed, making your yielding to me the sweeter. Your hair, finer than the finest silk and--" he buried his face in it, "finer-smelling, too. And your neck, marred only by the evidence of my love, fragile and trusting in my hand." He moaned obscenely. "Ah, Fin, you are perfection. Shall I go on? May I go on?"

“I fear my head will grow too large, but please… I would very much like to hear you continue.” Fingon sighed, and lifted himself higher, pressing his entire back against his cousin’s chest and stomach. “Tyë-melin, arimeldanya. If you desire to, please keep saying such sweet things.”

"Hold me up," he demanded, for without dropping the hand that held his throat, he pressed the weight of his chest along Fingon's back and, with his other hand he reached between Fingon's legs to prod at his entrance and to stroke his already (or still) leaking cock. "You are beautiful where you leak for me, where you bear evidence of my love for you, and your love of me. You are most beautiful where my intrusion upon you would defile you. It is not romantic, perhaps, but it is so beautiful to me I want to weep for it."

Fingon bit his lip, and with a furrowed brow he managed to tighten around Maedhros’ prodding finger. He sighed, toes curling. “I am yours,” he said clearly, voice carrying into the night. “Every last inch of me, my bonded. And how can it be defiling, when you are my husband, my truest love? This isn’t defilement. This is… this is sacred… hallowed. I love thee. And if you would have us relive our union a hundred times a hundred times I would never tire of it.” Fingon thrust lightly into his husband’s hand, shivering at the stimulation and because of the countless places his lover’s skin brushed against his own.

"If I lined you up, would you--could you--" he asked, but it was easier to think the image, of Fingon rocking back, spearing himself on Maedhros, their bodies coming together under Fingon's power though Maedhros was atop him.

Fingon grunted and nodded, trying to still himself long enough for Maedhros to line them up. “Want you in me Russ,” he whispered.

"Want to be in you," Maedhros confirmed, kissing and biting at the back of Fingon's neck, and he held himself steady, dropping his other hand to the bed to hold himself up and free Fingon's movements. "Come on, give it to me. Fuck yourself on me, show me how you want it."

Fingon remained still as he tried to get his bearings, clenching his fingers in the sheets. Then he pushed back onto Maedhros with a low moan. First there was pressure, and finally the head slipped inside and suddenly it was easy and slick and he was still wet inside from before. He pushed back effortlessly until Maedhros’ thighs pressed against his own and there was nothing more for him to take. The position was familiar-- similar to when Maedhros would slide between his thighs, but this… this was so much more. He groaned as he rocked forward before thrusting himself back onto Maedhros. He took his husband into himself eagerly, and listened for hitches in Maedhros’ breath, trying to determine what his husband liked. “This feels good,” he whispered. “Different.” He ground his hips in a circle against Maedhros and clenched around him once. “I think you’re even deeper than you were last time.”

"Uhhh," Maedhros moaned, nodding. "I think so. Hnngghh you feel so good, Fin." He growled suddenly, and grabbed Fingon by the throat one he was seated all the way inside: "Don't move. Want you just like this for a minute. Want you stretched and full of me." He tightened his grip on Fingon's throat, pulling him up to a savage kiss. "Love you, beautiful."

Lips tingling, Fingon tilted his head for another kiss, gratefully accepting it when Maedhros complied. Then his husband let his head sink back down, and Fingon found himself looking at the sheet below him, hair beginning to come unplaited and framing his face. His arms were starting to shake with the strain of holding him up, but he wanted to stay still for Maedhros, to please him. He settled himself and forced himself to look up, out across their valley at the stars and the trees. He tried to focus on counting the number of small pinnacles in the ridge to take his mind off his burning arms and Maedhros’ warm, hard length resting inside him.

"Good, good," Maedhros said, kissing him softly before sliding halfway out and ramming back in, sparking with pleasure, twice, once from him and once from Fingon, and also some pain--but not enough to make him stop. He let go of Fingon's neck and took hold of his hair instead. "Going to have you hard, Fin. Would you like that?"

“Nnnuh huh. Yes.” Fingon nodded quickly, tiny motions of his head while his hair was trapped in Maedhros’ grip. “May I-- May I move, melda? May I rock back and meet you?” He felt a starburst of pleasure from Maedhros as he sent an imagine to him, of Maedhros slamming into him and Fingon thrusting back and meeting him equally, both of them covered with a sheen of sweat and shaking as the moved together.

"Yes. I want you down on your elbows," Maedhros ordered, pushing Fingon's head down slightly to guide him. "Better angle that way." He rocked back and forth shallowly, teasing now.

“Ai!-- Russ! Tease,” he accused, ready for a strong, deep motion. “I--oooh!” Words failed him as Maedhros' sex rolled against a spot deep inside him, and his thoughts were lost to loud moans as he focused on staying in position where his lover wanted him. “Maitimo,” he murmured, closing his eyes and focusing on the feeling of Maedhros within him.

It stole Maedhros' breath, feeling the pleasure roll off Fingon when he struck that place inside him, and he wanted to do it again and again, for his own pleasure as much as for Fingon's. "That's my boy, good, good," he said, thrusting experimentally to find the right angle, then, "all right, move," he he ordered, and when they slid together they hit it even harder and the noises Fingon was making were obscene. He pulled Fingon's hair down, baring his neck, and bent around him and sucked a bruise under his chin somewhere, just over his pulse. "Love you like this, Fin. _Mine_ ," he growled.

“Yours,” Fingon agreed with a long, loud moan. They were alone, they were together, and they were wed. Fingon silently promised he would bring such noises out of Maedhros while they were here, and his body twitched in desire at the thought of his husband coming undone under his hands. He focused on rocking forward and back in a steady motion, and as their speed increased, Fingon balanced carefully and added a swivel of his hips when Maedhros was fully embedded in him.

His eyes rolled back at the new sensation of twisting hips. "Don't get ahead of yourself," Maedhros hissed, and bit his ear, and tightened a hand around Fingon's cock. "Right now you're mine, and those sweet little noises you make are mine, and I want to hear you say my name--beg me, Fin, beg me to let you come." His thrusts grew rougher.

"P-puh-please!" Fingon screamed the word, torn between moving back onto Maedhros' cock or forward into his hand. He was held down, grounded, by his husband's weight on top of him and Russ' voice in his ear. And he shook with almost too much and almost too soon as Maedhros' kept moving within him, hard and warm and unstoppable. "My lord, my prince, my light and my stars. Please Maitimo, please my husband. I would kneel at your feet or stay here on my knees for your pleasure if you asked it, but if you would grant me my desire spend with me, here and now. Hold yourself deep within me and brand me with your seed far inside where even your fingers have never reached." His arms shook, and he twisted his hips one more time. Then on the next thrust he clamped down around Maedhros, squeezing as hard as he could. "Please, my _husband_ ," he moaned.

Maedhros saw stars, and had to breathe slowly through his nose, eyes closed, to draw himself back. "Oh, _Valar_ , Findekáno," he hissed. "I've already given you that. No: right now, I want to wring you out. I'm going to bring you to completion and keep fucking you while you're open and relaxed, and as for the second time, we'll see. I want you to get used to being filled with me--and I want you to come even when you're too exhausted to come." He nipped at Fingon's throat and tugged hard on his cock, wrenching a soft cry from him. "That is for _my_ pleasure."

“Ruussss,” Fingon moaned. This hurt and it was good and he already knew he would be so incredibly sore later, but he never wanted to stop. “Yes! Please, Russ.” He was forced to keep his arms and legs steady were he was holding his lover’s weight, but he allowed his head to drop down, relaxing and prepared to do anything his husband asked of him. Several torturous thrusts later, he had an idea and sent it tentatively to Maedhros, surrounded by feelings of ‘would you?’ and ‘if this would please you.’ The thought itself was focused on his question of would Maedhros _make_ him? And Fingon suggested an image of them just as they were now, except Maedhros’ large, strong hand was squeezing around his throat, leaving him barely able to breath and seeing stars as darkness as spots of light covered his vision- leaving no thoughts in his head except for ‘Russ’ and ‘please’ and ‘anything’. And the instant Fingon felt a small wave of lust in return, he clamped down around his cousin again, arching his back and _squeezing_. “Russandol. My Russ. Will you make me, my Russan _doll_?”

Maedhros dropped the handful of hair and gripped Fingon roughly by the throat, feeling him swallow nervously, and immediately squeezed harder. "Call me that again and you maybe won't like what I'll make you do," he growled, and squeezed his cock with the same pressure on his neck. "And stop trying to make me finish. This is about me fucking your brains out, and I won't have you spoiling my plans." He twisted the hand that gripped his sex, urging him roughly toward completion. "I want you loose and compliant and well-used--and you will be, later, much later, when I finally let you sleep--if I finally let you sleep." When he felt the edges begin to gray around Fingon's vision he let up on his neck, but kept his head tilted back and throat exposed, the pressure there a mere warning (and the sound of his desperate gasp was erotic).

Fingon was rushing towards the edge as his vision grayed and every sound seemed louder and brighter (and how could sounds be bright?) and the world tilted and this was perfect… and then his husband _stopped_. He would do anything for Maedhros--he always would, but if Maedhros wanted him to finish, if he wanted him loose and soft and filled, why was he _stopping_? Fingon turned his head slightly to the side in question. And he felt how possessive Maedhros was, how much he desired to dominate, to have, to control, but Maedhros had also taught him that a little denial, an extra wait, could make everything so much sweeter. He sent a hint of that thought in warning. And head forced back, entirely vulnerable with Maedhros spearing him and holding hands on his two most vulnerable areas, Fingon smiled. “Why not?” he croaked. “You call me ‘princess’ and ‘boy’, do you not, husband? And if you want me to finish… why are you stopping? Why would you let go of me when you had me under your hand _Russandoll_?” And he rocked back against Maedhros with every bit of strength he had left, and he tightened around him once more.

"Because you are mine, my _princess_ ," Maedhros snarled into his ear and tightened his grip on his throat again (though he felt a pang of disappointment as Fingon's pleasure dropped when he eased up), "and I can hold you however I please." As if to illustrate, he pounded hard into his lover, wrenching a whimper from him. "And mind your tongue, or I will."

Words were not possible for a minute and Fingon felt owned and wanted and he thought he should feel humiliated but this was him, this was his _husband_ and their love life and if Maedhros wanted him to be his boy or his princess or his lord melindo Fingon would cherish each and every role. He was rushing forward again, and for the moment his arousal ached and he was tired of playing, though he sent a thought to Maedhros that he would love to do this again. “Yours,” he grunted, pressing into his husband’s hand, knowing that Maedhros could feel how close he was. Your princess, he thought. Your boy, your lover, your lord. Your everything, if you would let me be everything to you as you are to me. As you have always been to me. And Fingon was so close. He needed something, anything-- the hand on his throat squeezing on more time or pulling back to hit him and he would finish.

Maedhros tightened the hand around his throat, snapped his hips forward, and slid his hand down and off Fingon's length to take their weight as "Come," he ordered, and Fingon was spilling hot across the bed. "Good, good boy," he sighed throughout, and sucked on the back of his neck as he felt Fingon's pleasure wash through him.

Fingon mewled. “Russ,” he whispered. “Melindo.” And he shuddered as his lover continued rocking into him. He felt wrung out, used, and he loved being able to feel his husband entering him time and again. “Russ… can’t… I can’t…” and a hazy feeling of worry went through their bond.

"Shh, hush, you're all right," Maedhros said, and "just take it," he encouraged, though he listened close for any sign of trouble. He lessened his grip on Fingon's throat, though he did not let go

“I’m sorry!” Sorry. Sorry, sorry _sorry_. Fingon was shaking, and despite his best efforts his legs and arms were about to give out. He didn’t want this to end, not when Maedhros had plans for them, not when his husband had not finished. He whimpered and shifted, trying to press more of their skin together. “Can’t--don’t stop, please melindo, but I can’t stay up… can’t stay… Russ… help.”

"Shh, shh, you're all right, I've got you," Maedhros said, gripping Fingon's hips to hold him in place. "Let go, fall, I want your face in the pillow, anyway, and I'll keep your lovely arse where I want it." Indeed, he had no trouble keeping Fingon's knees braced, trapped between his own legs, and continued steadily, almost lazily, sliding in and out. Maedhros was surprised at his own energy, at his restraint and patience.

At Maedhros’ words Fingon let himself fall, collapsing onto the soft, downy bedding and the crumpled petals. “Mmmm. Russ.” Thank you, he thought, and then there was nothing except Maedhros above him and in him and around him. He felt stretched and used and tender, and when Maedhros pulled back for a particularly long thrust he could feel his lover’s arousal catch on the rim of his entrance and he whimpered, caught between oversensitive skin and riding the high of Maedhros' pleasure, which Fingon felt through the bond as though it were his own--and indeed, in a way, it was. And though he was bruising and overused, this reminded him of when Maedhros took him over his knee, of the point when everything became warm and pleasurable, except this time his own need had been sated, his body was exhausted, and this was for his husband, his world. And Fingon thought that it should have scared him, how much he wanted Russ to _use_ him.

"Say it out loud," Maedhros ordered, still thrusting silently (he was as hard as a rock but he could keep this up all day). "Say thank you. I haven't had you thoroughly enough that you can forget your manners, my beautiful boy," he said, and though he had to brace himself up with one arm, an elbow locked over the top of Fingon's shoulder, almost like he was holding him in place, almost like the purpose was to remind him how small he was in comparison, he reached down between Fingon's legs to stroke his sex experimentally.

Fingon grunted, feeling wrung out and thoroughly used already. “Ah than-thank you. For letting me fall. For taking care of me. Thank you my Russan- _doll_!” His breath hitched as Maedhros touched him and his hips jerked away from the painful stimulation though his head and chest were held fast by Maedhros arm. At his husband’s teasing Fingon’s thanks turned into the gently teasing nickname he had given Maedhros.

"I'm starting to think you want to be in trouble, my boy," Maedhros growled, and pulled out, and got off him. "Turn over," he ordered, pushing and shoving Fingon along.

Wincing as his body tried to react to the controlling, powerful note in Maedhros’ voice and failed except for a small twitch, Fingon rolled willingly. He bit his lip and as his eyes followed Maedhros.

Maedhros arranged Fingon, roughly, as he wanted, on his back. He took Fingon's ankles in one hand and lifted him to prop his hips up with both pillows: but he paused, holding him arse-up. "The last time I held you like this, you were a baby. If you care to continue acting like a baby, you can suckle this," he said, and took a cloth he had laid out with a mind to cleaning them up after and stuck it far back in his mouth. "Only don't stop making those sweet little noises you make," he said, smiling and spreading his legs, lining himself up and taking Fingon again.

Flushing in discontent, Fingon glared at his lover and worked the rag slowly out of his mouth. Turning his head he spat it to the side, trying to wet his mouth. He did not try to move from Maedhros’ hold, however, and he tightened slightly around Maedhros in a vague apology for calling a halt to that. Relaxing with his cheek to the bedsheets and his arms limply by his sides, Fingon’s eyes fluttered shut and he focused on nothing but the aches in his body and the warm presence of his cousin in both his body and his mind.

"Put your hands over your head, grab the blanket," he said, softer now, gentler. "You are so beautiful, my darling boy," he whispered, rocking his hips back and forth. "So beautiful and mine. Going to make you come. You ready, darling?" But he wrapped his hand around his soft cock, anyway.

Fingon shook and whimpered softly, quickly biting the sound back so that soon the only noises heard from him were the desperate hitches in his breath. He draped his arms so that his hands were where his husband wanted them, and he squeezed his eyes shut trying to focus on Maedhros’ hand and on Maedhros filling him. Fingon prayed that his body had more to offer than he thought it did even as Maedhros began shifting his hips as he thrust, rolling his desire along Fingon in a way that sent desperate tendrils of desire through him, trying to force a reaction from his body.

"Love you like this," Maedhros whispered. "Beautiful. Mine. Yielding to me, soft and open and wet. Are you weary yet, love? Can you keep up?" He teased lightly, stroking him firmly. "Want to see you paint yourself, Finno, I want to lick it off you. Can you give me that, my boy?"

“’ll try,” Fingon croaked in promise. “Tired. Used. But I would do anything for you melindo. You know this.” And true to his word Fingon was hardening-- albeit slowly and painfully--in Maedhros’ hand. He shivered and silently begged his husband for a kiss.

"Of course you are, love--tired and used, I mean--I promised you would be," Maedhros said, leaning down for a kiss. "And I've not entirely finished with you yet. So, my love, next time you tease me, remember the power I have over you." And Fingon was hardening in his hand, at his word. "Good, my good boy, such a good boy. I love you."

“Yours,” Fingon gasped. “Tyë-melin and I’m yours. And you’ve always had power over me.” He wanted to touch Maedhros, to run a hand through his hair, but he checked the motion and instead grabbed the sheets tighter where his husband hand wanted his hands placed. He took a deep breath, trying to regain some control over his body.

“But Russ?” Maedhros looked down at him. “You like this,” Fingon told him with a soft smile. “You like that I would fight for you, die for you, endure anything and everything for you, but I’m still my own person. You could have found an Elda so awed by you that he or she would have done whatever you said without hesitation and never questioned you.” His husband did not appear to particularly enjoy this line of thought. “But you wanted me. Admit it--” he broke off with a hitched breath as Maedhros twisted the hand on his arousal. “You _like_ that I’ll tease you, that I disagree with you sometimes, that I want everything you want, but I want things that I want too.” And he craned his neck, leaning up to kiss Maedhros soundly, and before falling back he leaned forward further to whisper in his ear. “Just don’t forget that as I am yours, you are mine. I am also your lord melindo, and we never did get to finish that day where you were utterly mine. You promised we finish it later, remember?” He fell back, exhausted, and his eyes slid half closed. “But for now I’m your good boy. And I love you dearly, my prince.”

Maedhros' heart fluttered at the accurate assessment of his love for Fingon: "You are mine as I am yours," he agreed, his breath hot against Fingon's ear, and, almost unbidden, images of their positions reversed, with Fingon a fearful King and Maedhros his devoted thrall (bound and desperate and happy to only serve), sprang to his mind and across the bond. But he reined them back because the power was too wonderful right now, Fingon too beautiful like this (though he could never really decide which he liked better). "Seeing you like this makes me desire as much to rule you as to be ruled by you. But you speak truly when you name yourself mine, my boy, in this moment, for I control when you rouse and when you spend, and I am your caretaker and ruler, and your submission makes me very happy." He licked a possessive stripe across Fingon's neck. "I'm going to finish soon, deep inside you where you're already sloppy with me. You're going to finish with me." And across the bond he did not bother asking, but himself searched through Fingon's mind to determine what he needed to do that.

Fingon gave into the feeling and the moment, and he opened his end of the bond as wide as he could and he flushed and twitched as he let Maedhros root through his desires and dreams. “Ruuuuss.” The name came as a long, plaintive sigh as he waited for Maedhros to choose, to move, and a part of him desperately hoped his lover would catch a particular dream, that he would feel Maedhros finger circling his entrance and sliding in, stretching him even wider.

"Mm," Maedhros groaned, the vision a delicious one: "You want me to wreck you properly then, don't you, my lovely? You want not to be able to walk tomorrow--you want to be nice and soft and slick and stretched and wet and open for me--you want me to have you before breakfast, before you wake up--you want to fall asleep with me inside you and wake up with the same." He kissed Fingon tenderly for all his filthy words: "I want that, too, my love, my boy, my Findekáno." He slid out, partially, to get a look at Fingon's entrance, to see it's give, to see if he was already hurting--and marveled that he was so loose around him he almost didn't tighten immediately. "Oh, you are ready for me, aren't you?" he chuckled. He remained back straight, kneeling upright at Fingon's base (his legs spread so beautifully wantonly), but he dropped his hand to Fingon's cock again, stroking him almost urgently. "I'm going to stretch you out, baby, and I want you to feel it, and I want you to scream when you come. Can you do that for me, my darling?"

Maedhros' _mouth_! Fingon thought he could come from that alone, from such words coming from his lover, from his husband. “Nnnnugh. Russ.” He grunted, body twitching and almost cresting the edge already. He shut his eyes tightly for half a minute, trying to pull back, to let Maedhros take whatever action he wished. He was _there_ already, and yet… he was Maedhros’ right now. And his lover could do as he wished, and Fingon would wait to finish with him. Fingon was suddenly certain that at this point he could, he would, come on command. “Y-yes. Pl _ease_ Russ!” This was perfect. This was everything. He was looking down at his wrecked lover, and looking up into his prince’s face. And he wanted Maedhros to undo him entirely, to stretch him even further when he had no leverage and could barely move, barely think, barely breathe. “Love this. Tyë-melin, melindo. Anything for you, my lord, my prince. I am yours.” He half gasped, half sobbed the last sentence, unable to look away from his husband.

"Shh, shh, you're okay, I got you, Finno," Maedhros whispered, stroking him gently, and slipping his other hand on his own cock. "How many fingers do you think you can take? One? Two?" He asked, lining them up to penetrate Fingon once he slid inside. "Three?" As Fingon's breath hitched, "Well, let's try two," he said, and pressed slowly in, cock and both fingers up to the first knuckle. "How's that?" he asked, but without waiting for an answer, pressed further. "Ohh this feels so good, want to have you like this in the morning, stretched open for me," he panted, his hips working a slow, very shallow rhythm. "So close, Fin. I'm so close. Love seeing you like this. Going to finish--when I say."

“Yes,” Fingon affirmed. “Yes, yes--” his voice broke, and he sobbed, sending out a desperate mental plea to have Meadhros’ lips on his own. His every sense was focused on his husband’s fingers inside him, pressing against Maedhros and against him. He burned with the stretch, and his pleasure soared with it. “When you say. And-- and tomorrow. Like you said. Please, my lord. Please melindo. Love you. Love this. I love you.” Fingon tried to bring down every barrier, opening his mind and body to his prince, desperate to accept anything and everything Maedhros offered him, both willing and wanting, for the moment, to submit fully to Maedhros.

Maedhros couldn't bend down, but he could reach down and haul Fingon up by the back of the neck to crash their lips together, though he nearly folded his lover in half to do so. And he could send him thoughts, words of praise and of love, tell him how proud he was and how happy Fingon made him, how happy their union made him, and that, in spite of all this, his heart belonged to Fingon as much if not more than Fingon's heart was his. He could see himself in Fingon's eyes and he looked so powerful, beautiful and terrible, and worthy of all the love and trust he was given. suddenly it was too much, and "Come for me now," Maedhros whispered, and snapped his hips forward, and was himself spending hard into Fingon's well-used channel. There was a bright-white explosion of light behind his eyes, and Fingon was his everything, his pleasure and his life. he would never, ever, not for ten thousand ages of this world, get used to this.

“Russ,” Fingon whispered brokenly, feeling wanted, loved, beautiful and _worthy_ and then he was following Maedhros, tumbling over the edge, clutching his lover and grabbing a fistful of Maedhros’ hair where his arm was wrapped around his husband’s strong back. His world flashed white and it was too much- more than his body knew how to deal with and he’d already finished so many times. There was a roaring in his ears and Maedhros’ feelings crashed into him- love and desire and trust and adoration. Fingon attempted to send them back, or leave himself open for Maedhros to see within him. But his lover was still moving slightly inside him and rolling over that area deep within that caused violent flashes of color behind his eyes, and he gasped and he submitted, and he tried to give Maedhros _everything_ and then he knew no more.

Maedhros wasn't sure whether to be surprised or smug about this, and losing Fingon, even for a moment, was disorienting. "Fin--Finno," he called, but Fingon was out. He thrust a few more times as his hardness abated, but relocated both his hands to touching Fingon's face and hair to comfort and revive him. When he finally pulled out he was weak and shaking, and had no strength to make good on his earlier promise to lick Fingon's seed off him, so he cleaned him quickly with a soft cloth instead and bundled Fingon into his arms as he woke. It wasn't cold but he threw a blanket over them, and reached for a water skin. "Finno, darling," he whispered, kissing his temple, sliding his arm under Fingon's head and arms and legs around his body, "wake up, meldanya. Wake up, look at the stars," he said, turning and seeing them for the first time.

“M’lindo?” Fingon heard Maedhros calling him and he stirred in his husband’s arms, eyelids fluttering as he tried to remember when he’d fallen asleep. “Stars?” he yawned and looking up gasped. He carefully shifted his head on Maedhros’ arm, and stared up with him. “They’re beautiful,” he whispered. “But you still shine brighter, lord.” His eyes wandered to Maedhros, whose heart had slowed and who looked relaxed and well pleased. Fingon shifted his legs slightly, and he felt sore and hollow and empty. He snuggled closer to Maedhros, grateful for his husband’s heat and the soft blanket and the warm night. “Prince?” he asked, barely breathing the word. Maedhros felt calm, tired, and quite fond through their bond. “Were you… was this what you wanted tonight?” Are you pleased, he meant. “I’m sorry I, ah… well, you know.” He flushed at the mere idea of passing out before they had finished.

Maedhros huffed, amused that Fingon could have any doubt, and possibly touched that he was so concerned for him. He took Fingon's hand and kissed it and laid it over his heart. "You tell me," he whispered, rendering his heart up, for to show Fingon would be simpler and more beautiful way to indicate just how pleased he was--not to mention he didn't have words for this much pleasure--and just to make sure, he kissed him, sending his love and satisfaction in warm colors and good feelings and smells and deep, abiding, unfathomable love.

Fingon’s breath caught and he could have sworn that for a moment his heart stopped as he was overcome with feelings of love, pleasure, contentment and satisfaction. He moaned softly, pressing gentle kisses to Maedhros’ lips. “Thank you, my prince,” he whispered. “If- if you want….” Fingon opened himself up as well, accepting Maedhros’ love and returning the feeling surrounded by his. He sent his awe and adoration of his lover, the innate trust he felt for Maedhros, and the satisfaction of pleasing Maedhros and of being able to provide what he desired. And he sent the physical parts as well--how well used he felt, how open and raw and empty. He sent how grateful he was for what Maedhros had done and how stretched his entrance still felt. He was sore all over, and exhausted, and happy--they were bonded and therefore the world was perfect this night.

Maedhros sighed at the contact, at Fingon reaching out to him, at the warm wave of adoration and exhaustion and comfort. "Ai, melda venno," he sighed, hugging Fingon close and kissing gently across his face. They were silent, just holding each other, sharing their love, for some time. But as he felt Fingon drifting-- "Fin, look," he said. "Can you see the stars on the lake?" He lifted his arm under Fingon's head so he could see.

“I see them. I never want to get used to this view; I never want to take it for granted. It’s beautiful, Russ.” He turned away from the stars to kiss his husband again. “Thank you for coming here with me. Thank you for kissing me and wanting me and for agreeing to wait for me.” He sighed, and glanced from the stars above them to the stars in the lake. “Tomorrow or the next day would you go swimming with me again amidst our fallen stars? I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to move much tonight. And ‘m far too comfortable to get up--I hope you are as well.”

"I never want to move again," Maedhros confirmed, snuggling him close. "We will not leave this place until we both are fully satisfied, my love, fear not." He kissed Fingon on his brow and brought the water forward. "Drink for me?" He pressed.

Fingon accepted the water gratefully, surprised by how thirsty he was. He downed over half the skin before forcing himself to stop. "Sorry, thirsty--thank you," he said in quick succession. "Aren't you thirsty too?" He offered Maedhros the waterskin and brought a hand up to caress his husband's cheek. "You went and got the water for us--you should get to enjoy it."

Maedhros took a few swallows, but he loved watching Fingon's throat work and bade him drink the rest. He removed the pillows from under his hips and replaced them where they belonged, under their heads, and unpacked the rest of the blankets to cover them in case the night grew cold. He put the oil away, cleaned them up where he could, and rolled Fingon onto his stomach to check that no damage had been done. Once he was satisfied, he slid his shoulder beneath Fingon's head again and bundled him into his arms. "Comfortable?" He checked, his eyes half-closing, mesmerized by the stars swimming in the shallows of the lake.

"Mhmm." Fingon nodded, snuggling closer and letting his muscles relax fully. "Love your arms around me. Love your heart beating close to mine." He opened his eyes slightly. "And I love being here with you, arimeldanya." His eyes drifted closed again despite the beautiful night around them. "Your wish is filled, husband. I don't… I don't think I could do anything more tonight but I still yearn for you; I still want to have you deep within me where I can hold you tight and warm and safe and mine." He sighed and listened to waves from the slight breeze lapping the lake's shore and the trees rustling gently around them. And, as ever, Maedhros' breath came soft and constant beside him.

"Ah, in the morning, my Findekáno," Maedhros assured him. "I don't suspect you'll have to live without me inside you too consistently," he laughed. "For now, sleep, and dream, and wake me for any reason--" Especially wake me, he added silently, if you have any wet dreams you want to share. "I love you, beautiful." His hands ran up and down his back and arms in a steady motion that was soothing to both of them.

Fingon let out a huff of laughter at the thought. "As you wish, my prince," Fingon murmured, already half asleep. "Love you my Russandol, my husband, my bonded." Maedhros' hands on him were warm and perfect and were quickly causing him to surrender to the inexorable pull of sleep. Again, without his knowledge, he went from waking to sleep as he lay, glowing, in his husband's arms. And if he sent anything through their bond as he slept, they were feelings of contentment and love and perfect happiness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first full day of the honeymoon... that's all we can really say.

Fingon slept soundly through the night, so Maedhros did, too. But he woke early--as he more or less had planned to do--while Fingon was still fast asleep. Perfect. It was the coldest time of the morning, before the light of the Trees had reached beyond the mountains, so he stayed beneath the blankets except to reach for the oil, and slowly, carefully so as not to wake his lover, Maedhros slipped out from beneath him and slid over the top behind him. He waited a few moments to make sure Fingon still slept before nudging his legs apart, spreading him wide open for him. He couldn't see the area, but he reached down to test it with his fingers, and though he was not as wet as he hoped, where seed and oil had dried crusty, he was very loose, and he slipped first one, then two fingers in without any resistance, and inside he was very moist indeed. So he coated the edges with oil carefully, and added a third finger, stretching him easily and quickly. It was so beautiful feeling him like this, and additionally relaxed in sleep, that Maedhros needed no coaxing to hardness, and after coating himself he slipped inside.

As Maedhros began to move, Fingon’s pulse picked up and his body began to rise in desire. He slept on, though whispers of thought made their way across the bond painting a picture of Maedhros and Fingon and their bonding. Fingon moaned lightly, hips shifting against his husband, and he gasped, head rolling as Maedhros shifted within him.

Maedhros held still as Fingon began to give signs of waking, and kissed the back of Fingon's neck and shushed him, though he began to sweat with the effort of keeping still. When Fingon settled again (though he could now feel, barely, that Fingon was dreaming, or remembering, last night), Maedhros continued his rhythm, shallow, slow thrusts that were meant to be gentle, though he changed angle a few times in an attempt to find the spot that would bring Fingon the most pleasure. His own cock, he could feel, was already leaking, and he didn't think he would last very long, in spite of his performance last night: for to have Fingon open and beautiful and wet and warm and inviting _while he was sleeping_ , truly, at his most vulnerable, was intoxicating, and Maedhros wasn't sure whether he wanted to raise his macho hackles and plough into him like he owned him or weep for the beauty of it.

"Russ," Fingon whimpered, shifting again, and something came back through his body or through the bond and nudged him to waking. "Russ?" As Fingon's eyes blinked open he shifted, and then moaned loudly. "Oh _Valar_!" Russ was inside him, inside him as they’d agreed, _using_ him while he slept, and it was glorious. I never want to wake any way but this, he thought, and knew that his thought was sent along their bond to Maedhros. "Russ," he groaned. Fingon tried to move against him, but he was sore and his muscles protested, and he quickly found himself relaxing and letting Maedhros control their movements. He turned his head, pleading for Maedhros' lips as well.

Smiling magnanimously (but also wickedly) (even though his eyes were wet with the promise of tears), Maedhros kissed Fingon gently. "Morning, melda," he whispered, pressing a line of kisses across his cheek and neck. "Mm, you feel so good this morning. So loose and open, you didn't even wake up. I'll have to try this again, see how far I can get while you sleep. I wonder if I can finish and pull out and go back to sleep, and leave you to wake up hard, and open, and wet, and not understanding why you feel so used?" Oh, he had plans, not for today or necessarily soon, but someday, and he shared them with Fingon: of making Fingon _his_ in a thousand depraved ways, to make certain he never forgot who he belonged to, and loving him so sweetly and thoroughly he never would. "Because you are mine, a this is mine, a place for my seed to fill, a vessel to contain my boundless love for you." He sucked on a place behind Fingon's ear, bringing a bruise to the surface.

"Yours," Fingon groaned in agreement, flushing at Maedhros' ideas and wanting to try all of them. “As you’re mine.” His hips thrust back onto his lover at the thought of waking up hard and aching and used with Maedhros next to him settled and finished just watching him squirm. Maedhros continued moving gently in him. "You'd stay though, right?" Fingon checked. "I--I'd like that, but please don't leave me alone, Russ."

"Oh, I'd never leave you," Maedhros assured him, nipping gently at his shoulders and the back of his neck. "I would be punishing myself if I did. No, Finno, I would watch you squirm, or I might pretend to be asleep, and claim innocence (and I would have cleaned myself up so you could prove nothing)--" he huffed between long, slow thrusts, "and I would convince you it was your own insatiable desires, which were deviant and needed constant monitoring--and I might take it as my burden to help you finish, or I might just watch you do it--or I might make you wait. I might convince you that you were ill and needed to stay in bed all day, and that I needed to watch you closely for signs of reoccurrence. _Then_ I might need to leave you, to bring breakfast, for you wouldn't be allowed out of bed at all, not for any reason, and if you tried to leave I would chastise you severely." He nibbled Fingon's ear. "And Eru help you if you had another 'episode' while I was chastising you." He grinned--the fantasy well into the realm of a joke, but erotic nonetheless.

"Think I would," Fingon admitted, fists clenching in the sheets as Maedhros rocked them. "I really can't control myself around you arimeldanya. Do you feel what you do to me?" Fingon looked back at Maedhros. "Russ, would you do something for me, my prince? If I ask you to, would you hold yourself deep inside me for a minute, and not pull out?"

Maedhros huffed, and nodded, stilling his hips after a few erratic tries. "Yes. Hold on--" he pulled out, then, and slammed back in, because that felt good and got a reaction out of both of them. "Like this?" he asked, buried to the hilt and pressed flush against Fingon from thighs to throat.

"Unf." Fingon rocked forward and then held, pressed to the bedding as he was. "Like that," he agreed. "Just stay like that, my prince, if you would." And Fingon clamped down as tightly as he could, trying to hold his muscles like that until he shook and trembled. He could _feel_ the tightness, the pressure that Maedhros felt and he groaned aloud, unable to stop the noises he was making even if he had wished to.

"Oh, _fuck_!" Maedhros cried, his sharp yelp punctuating the low groan Fingon was creating. He almost _almost_ tried pulling away from the too much, but stopped himself to save them both potential pain: he was startled by the moment of vulnerability, that though he was on top, Fingon had hold of his most sensitive part, and the picture struck him as poignant. "Please," he begged, his voice too high, and he was almost wrenched over the edge from that sensation alone, not to mention he also felt what Fingon felt--the pain and the pleasure and the strain of it--and not a little streak of smug power--but he wanted to bring Fingon with him when he came. "Please, let me--close," he whispered, his knees sliding futilely against the bedding.

A large part of Fingon reveled in this unexpected power. He had hoped to push Maedhros a little closer, to do something that would feel _good_ for him, the way Fingon felt as he kept thrusting with perfect aim against that spot deep within. But this… "As m-my melindo commands," he murmured and let go, sweat beaded on his brow just from holding tightly for half a minute. "But later, later," Fingon whispered. "When you're facing me and deep in me--when I can watch you, I want to do that… I want to hold you like that, to drag you along like that. Could I make you finish, arimelda, just by embracing you so?"

Maedhros gave an undignified squeak, and nodded, huffing, against Fingon's back as he got his bearings, got up on knees and elbows, feeling weak. "Oh, yes, I think you could. I think you would unmake me with such a sensation--does it not hurt you?" he asked suddenly, kissing his neck tenderly. It took him a moment just to get up the courage to move again, but he soon found his rhythm again, and kept his thrusts gentle.

“It… I just--“ Fingon hesitated, cataloging what he was feeling this morning along with Maedhros’ concern, which was warm and protective and soft around the edges of his mind. Fingon felt _good_. He felt his husband and he felt their combined desire, and the bedding was soft and warm and Maedhros was a comfortable weight on top of him. He ached, and he felt almost raw--he was certain that after they finished his abused entrance would be sore along with muscles he’d never realized he had before. But he wanted this. And as for tightening around Maedhros--how could that be anything but wonderful--to feel him more fully? “I’ll be sore,” he murmured, “as I told you last night. But you feel good, Russ. And I’ll always want you with me and on me and in me. And as for holding you? How could that ever hurt, Russ? You’re _part_ of me. The best part of me. And embracing you, that would never hurt me.” He shook his head, craning his neck to try to see Maedhros.

Grinning, Maedhros pressed Fingon's head to the pillow and kissed his neck. "Don't move, love. You'll strain your neck. Just feel. I'm right here, and I love you so very much." And he laughed, his breath warm and soft against Fingon's cheek. "I think it's very amusing that I work hard for a night and a day to wreck you, and just a little motion from you has me near-wrecked in seconds. So I never have any delusions about who has power over whom," he said, brushing his hair back with his lips. "I love you, Fin." Sliding his arms beneath Fingon, he tilted them to the side, cradling Fingon's neck and head with one arm while the other kept their hips together, the new position allowing Fingon's sex to rouse fully. "Ready to finish with me?" he whispered, closing his fist tenderly over Fingon's arousal.

“Ready.” Fingon squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on Maedhros moving over him and in him and finally, finally his husband's hand on him. “We’ve power over each other, husband, for I would do anything for you. And I’m absolutely certain that when our positions are reversed you will be able to do the exact same to me that I can do to you now.” He lay his head on the sheet, looking over at the lake. “Now, Russ? I’m ready--I’m so close, arimeldanya. May I--may I tighten again?”

"Yes," Maedhros breathed, sliding out as far as he dared and slamming home, where Fingon tightened and _milked_ him dry as he came, hard and sudden and deep, unable to move but perfectly drawn out. He gasped into Fingon's hair, sending all his pleasure to him.

“Russ!” Fingon cried out, riding out Maedhros’ high and letting it pull him over the edge--though he had already been _there_ even without the sudden burst of Maedhros’ pleasure taking over his senses and sending thrills through his hröa. “Oh, oh my Russandol.” He bit into the bedding, arms and legs twitching as his overused muscles spasmed. “Russ,” he panted and he could feel his lover behind him, could _feel_ how wonderful this was for him and as Fingon finished, when he would have relaxed, he clamped down again, trying to draw out his husband’s completion.

"Ai!" Maedhros cried, curling around Fingon as he tightened around him. "Fuuuuuck," he sighed, pulling Fingon tight to him and biting into his shoulder. "Oh, Finno, please," he begged. "Please, will you stop being so perfect, you're going to be the death of me," he laughed, and he sort of didn't want to move from where he was even when he began to soften.

Fingon caught his lover’s desire, shared it. He tightened again lightly around Maedhros. “Please. Want that too.” He wished he could hold Maedhros to him, and instead settled for sending his love and his happiness through their bond. “Please stay in me. If you can, I want you in me, Russ. I felt so _empty_ without you last night, beloved. Feels like you belong there, like I’m missing a part of me when you’re gone.” He smiled, entirely relaxed and limbs sprawled. “Good morning and tyë-melin, husband,” he added. “You spoil me, waking me like that.”

Maedhros chuckled, rocking Fingon gently. "And you spoil me, being the one I wake to." He kissed every bit of Fingon he could reach, and they lazed about for some time like this, before-- "I--all right, I need to pull out. Hurts. Sorry. But," as he slipped out with a groan, he nudged Fingon onto his back and crawled on top of him. "Now I can kiss you properly," he said, and did, cupping his face with his hands.

Fingon relaxed, head against the pillow and letting Maedhros do the work this morning. “Love you,” he murmured. “Love you. Thank you for taking such good care of me. You are… you are wonderful, Russ. What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Maedhros shook his head, rubbing their noses together, and laughed. "And I love you. You are wonderful. You are my everything. Tell me, now, truly, did I hurt you? May I look to make sure you're all right? And clean you?"

Whining, Fingon wrapped a hand around Maedhros’ neck and pulled him down for another kiss. “Don’t say things like that! The fëa is willing, my beloved, but my body can’t take it. I can’t rise so soon. Yes, of course, you may check and you may,” Fingon shuddered in pleasure, “clean me.” He raised his hand, threading it back through Maedhros’ hair. “I’m not hurt, arimeldanya. Not really. I’m just sore. And I ache. I think I’m already looking forward to a hot bath at some point in the future, but for now I’ll settle for having my hot cousin to warm me through and care for me.” He sighed, and tried to move slightly before falling back to the bed. “I warned you I’d be useless today.”

Maedhros huffed. "Ah, Finno, do not try to make _me_ rouse again so soon! I shall get big-headed if you tell me about how you can't walk." Smiling, he peeled the covers back, but kept Fingon covered above his waist. "And what I meant by cleaning is significantly less romantic than we both are wanting right now." He wet a cloth and warmed it between his hands before swiping it over Fingon's skin and over the bed and over himself, and then he rinsed it and laid it on the grass. He prodded Fingon's entrance lightly, looking for blood or any injury, and found none. He had been careful, and was glad to see it paid off. "All right," he said finally, pulling the covers back over them both and curling against Fingon. "Now I'm going back to sleep," he teased, closing his eyes.

“Tease,” Fingon mumbled, cuddling against Maedhros. “I was expecting your tongue.” He relaxed, listening to sounds of their valley and letting Maedhros’ warm weight curled against him and holding him lull him back to sleep. He didn’t want to try to move in any case, and with Maedhros sleeping there was no reason to stay awake.

Maedhros woke when it was fully light to a rumbling--not in his own belly, but in Fingon's--he either felt it through their close proximity or through the bond: either way, his beloved was hungry, and his favorite thing to do--well, second-favorite, he supposed, now--was to cook for him. He got up and wriggled free of the blankets before remembering Fingon's words from before, and returned to kiss him awake. "Finno, love, I'm getting up to make breakfast. You can sleep if you want, just letting you know," he said, his voice quiet and rhythmic.

“Mmm. D-d’ you need h’lp?” Fingon mumbled, snuggling into the blankets and pulling them closer around him. He blinked up at Maedhros for a moment and yawned.

"No. Just stay there and look lovely," Maedhros said, kissing him again and getting up. It was cool, and he pulled on his socks and boots and a long tunic, but no trousers. "Unless you'd like something other than bacon, oatmeal, and fruit for breakfast--which is, of course, all we have, but if you would prefer me to make rabbit stew at eight in the morning I will gladly do so."

“Hmmm.” Fingon left his eyes closed and curled up in the middle of the bedding as he responded. “Breakfast sounds good. Bacon, oatmeal, fruit… I think something’s missing husband. You’re holding out on me.”

Maedhros frowned. "Oh, well, tea." He turned back to make sure this was all right after getting a fire going.

Fingon chuckled softly. “Tea would be lovely. But that’s not what I meant.” He sent a thought to Maedhros of breakfast in bed, and of breakfast foods, tea, but most importantly, Maedhros. And he thought of lips on his, and a tongue languidly moving against his own. You, he thought, you’re forgetting what I need most, and that is you, beloved.

Maedhros flushed and turned shyly back to his fire. "I am already yours, melda. My presence goes without saying--as it ever will." He couldn't wipe the grin off his face as he boiled water and made tea, sweetened it and stirred milk into it, and brought it back for his love, along with his own. "Oh, wait, do you need help--can I help you sit up?"

“Please.” Fingon looked down and to the side, slightly ashamed that he could barely move. His body was already healing, he was certain of that, but he had no desire to further injure himself by pushing himself too far too soon. “Thank you,” he said softly as Maedhros lifted him and shifted the pillows to help support his lower back. Fingon winced at the movement, but was fairly comfortable as he settled and accepted his tea. “This smells wonderful, husband. Mmm. I quite like that- getting to call you husband, I mean. My husband. My perfect, precious husband. My kind, strong, gentle, loving husband. My beautiful husband Maitimo.” Fingon smiled up at Maedhros.

Maedhros smiled and stole a kiss. "I told you not to try to rouse me to soon--or you'll never eat." He pulled Fingon on one hip: "Here, lie on your side. I need you to get better sooner rather than later," he said, and went back to the fire to stoke it and get his grill set up.

Fingon snuggled back into the blankets, mind drifting as he waited for Maedhros to return. He was warm and comfortable and ready for Maedhros to get back into bed with him. He felt his husband look over as that thought crossed their bond. “Not sorry,” he said. “You wanted me to need you always, to desire you constantly. So this is really your fault, my dearest husband.”

Maedhros huffed. "Why do you think _I_ keep looking back at _you_?" he responded. "It seems slothful to return every piece of praise you give to me back, but I am yours as you are mine, and now that we are bonded I believe I love you just as much as you love me--not more, not less--and I need you as much as you need me." He turned to flash Fingon a smile, and realized he was doing this wrong, and relocated so he could watch his stove and his Fingon, and in the meantime boiled water for the oatmeal and rummaged for the berries to put in. "Do you still like your bacon fatty--I mean, undercooked--I mean--not browned like I like mine?" he asked, teasing.

“I want just enough crunch to give it texture without killing it again. It should dissolve in the mouth, not crumble into pieces that, once broken, no one could identify as having been bacon.” Fingon shrugged as Maedhros rolled his eyes at him. “It’s _bacon_ , Russ. It’s supposed to have a bit of fat. That’s why it’s bacon and not regular every day pork. And it adds flavor--I thought you liked flavorful foods.” Fingon stuck out his tongue as Maedhros looked at him, laughing in his mind though he had no desire to clench his stomach to do so verbally. “Love you,” he added quickly, as though that made up for his picky food requirements.

"I love you," Maedhros replied, laughing out loud as he nudged half of the bacon to the edges of the pan and stirred the oatmeal. "And in your oatmeal? Sugar, milk, butter, no cinnamon, but lots of berries--but no blackberries, right?" He grinned, as much as Fingon's eating habits as the fact that he knew this from memory, as well as he knew his own preferences.

Fingon nodded in agreement. “Mhmm. Blackberries don’t belong in oatmeal. And they should never be mixed with raspberries.” He sipped at his tea enjoying the warmth of the mug in his hands. “What else would you like to do today, my beloved bonded? Not that I would have a problem spending all day in bed with you.” A flash of what Maedhros might do to him rushed through their bond before Fingon could master his thoughts, and when Maedhros jerked, almost toppling the pan with their bacon, Fingon shrugged at him in apology.

Maedhros laughed at himself, apparently unable to stop laughing. "I shall have to get used to you doing that to me," he said. "And it's beginning to hurt my face to smile too much. And I promise to save that little game for when we're actually on a proper bed. Well once it warms up I was thinking we might try to manage a swim--I could hold you, anyway, in the shallow end. It might make you feel better."

“I’d like that,” Fingon admitted. “And a cool bath sounds nice--I washed off a bit last night, but I must admit I had other things on my mind and didn’t want to risk taking too long and not being there when you returned.” There was another pulse of desire, this time sent by Maedhros as he thought about their bonding night and fully reciprocated and returned by Fingon. “May I--ah…” Maedhros quirked an eyebrow at him, and Fingon completed his thought. “May I ask what you were doing last night, when you went to get water? After you left I made up the bed and washed up. I was about to get in when I realized I would mar the setup and the flowers, so I grabbed the travel bag to wait for you on.”

"Besides having a nervous breakdown?" Maedhros chuckled as he prepared his and Fingon's bowls of oatmeal and slid the bacon onto a trencher. He brought the items over carefully, as well as refills of tea, before slipping his boots off and returning under the covers with Fingon, where he immediately slid their legs together and tangled them pleasantly. "Well, I was nervous at first--but love quickly got the better of me. I am glad we waited until we came here, even though it only gave me a chance to get nervous. How is your tea? Sweet enough?"

Maedhros was warm and toned and perfect. Fingon tucked his chilled feet under his cousin’s legs to warm them. “It’s perfect, Russ.” Like you, he added silently. “I’m glad we waited too. This is… I know this valley will always be special to me; it’s fitting that our bonding was here. Besides,” he added with a smile. “Out here we can be as loud as we want. _And_ we were able to fulfill your desire of taking me under the stars.” Fingon shifted slightly, feeling a pang of desire at the thought and the memory.

"Yes, I primarily appreciate the privacy," Maedhros said, then paused: "Though I seem to have taught myself to be quiet when I--I hope you do not think I was unsatisfied with you at any point?" he said suddenly. "Just because I am not, ah, quite as vocal as you are."

Fingon flushed. “Sorry,” he grumbled. “And not really. I was a bit worried when you, ah, had to wake me up.” His flush spread and deepened at that. “Sorry. But…  I could feel that you wanted me, that you enjoyed what we were doing. Though there are still some other things I’d like to do with you.”

"No!" Maedhros protested, and leaned in to steal a kiss, cutting off the spoonful of oatmeal. Fingon tasted like raspberries. "Never think I don't like hearing you. I was apologizing for not giving you the same. Why should you apologize for _not_ being repressed?" he asked with a smile. "If anything, you can apologize for teasing me so relentlessly and encouraging grandfather to do the same," he said, with no real condemnation. "You can add that to our list of things we'd like to do, then." Get me to scream, he added silently, and raised a challenging eyebrow as he sipped his tea.

Leaning over with a slight hitch in his breath at the motion, Fingon tilted his head and let his lips graze Maedhros’ ear as he took his next sip. “Perhaps next time I’ll just _squeeze_ and not let go. Will that do, for you? Or do you need another spanking to loosen up and make some of those beautiful sounds of yours?” The words ‘soaked cat’ may have passed through Fingon’s mind, but he didn’t say them out loud and he would deny even using them in conjunction with Maedhros' noises of pleasure.

Maedhros' eyes flashed, playfully more than angrily, though he also blushed. "You see what I mean?" he protested, and filled his mouth with oatmeal, but his mind bypassed Fingon's suggestions with an air of 'You'll have to do better than that!'

Fingon was tempted to smile, but checked his thoughts wanting at least some of them to be a surprise for Maedhros. “Oh,” he said, and frowned, adopting a sad expression. “I suppose you aren’t interested in that anymore. Well, I suppose we don’t _have_ to do such things ever again.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t want you to feel obligated to participate in such things.” Fingon turned his attention to his oatmeal, swirling his spoon in it dejectedly.

"Findekáno!" Maedhros cried, grabbing Fingon at his sides where he was most ticklish and squeezing. "You know better than to _tease_ me!"

“Ah! Ow! Russ!” Fingon squirmed back, sore muscles protesting the movement. “Ow!” He whacked Maedhros across the back of the head. “You’re mean,” he informed him petulantly. “And just for that, the next time you want such a thing you can _beg_ me for it first.” He retrieved his fortunately unharmed oatmeal and took another bite, sending Maedhros a few ideas for just how earnestly he should be begging if he wanted something. “And as for teasing… you’re not sitting here with me slowly dripping out of you, so I think I can count this morning far more of a tease than you can, regardless of what I say or think. Well, maybe not regardless, but I’m note sure we want to make that a challenge right now.” He looked over at Maedhros, mouth quirked in a wry smile.

"I'm not mean, _you're_ mean," Maedhros insisted, flopping playfully onto his back and setting oatmeal and tea aside. "I'm not the one making you beg for what I know you want." Catching Fingon's eyes, almost in retaliation he imagined one of his rougher fantasies: he, bound with rope tied wrists to ankles and face in the pillow, backside exposed to the air, with Fingon pounding roughly into him, his thighs bright red already and his cock tied--and gagged with--something--enough that he could not speak to be understood but he could still scream. "How's that?" he wondered, though he struggled to keep his face straight and even daring.

Fingon’s head dropped back, mouth opened and eyes squeezed shut as he let out a pained moan. “Oh.” He shifted and moaned again, and he carefully moved so that he was straddling Maedhros’ waist and looking down at his cousin. “You are a horrible person. I love you dearly, but-- oh, Russ. We are going to have fun together. And we’ll put that bed through its paces--see if it’s as strong and impressive as your father thinks it is.”

Maedhros bit his lip. "Here now, you should finish your breakfast," he protested, but he was running his hands up Fingon's thighs already. "And anyway you know I'm shockingly easy, and would roll over for you at the slightest provocation."

“I thought I told you I wanted something more than oatmeal and bacon. But if you insist.” Fingon grabbed his bowl, setting it on Maedhros’ chest and picking up his tea to take a sip. He wriggled slightly on Maedhros, trying to get comfortable. “This is wonderful, husband. Thank you.” Fingon began to eat without moving from his perch, and at each particularly tasty bite with the perfect ratio of berries to milk to oatmeal he would moan lightly and shift on top of his husband.

Maedhros huffed, but he could even eat cold oatmeal for this, and propped his knees up to provide a bit of a backrest for his lover where he sat. "Mm, you are very tempting like this." He put his hands behind his head and was content, for now, just to watch.

Fingon smiled, feeling warm inside as Maedhros moved to better accommodate him. “You are very tempting always,” he told Maedhros. “But especially right here, like this. Later, will you let me ride you like this, melda?” He paused and grabbed another spoonful of oatmeal. “Here, do you want a bit of mine?” he held out his spoon in invitation, since Maedhros could not easily eat from his own bowl in their current position.

"Mm," Maedhros said, lifting his head to accept the bite, and grinned. "Thank you, melindo," he said, recalling the word from when Fingon was king for the day--that day they never got to finish properly. "Later, I will _beg_ you to ride me like this," he confirmed. He liked resting his arms along Fingon's thighs and his palms on Fingon's hips, just brushing against his skin.

Fingon gasped lightly, hips twitching. “I’ll hold you to that,” he murmured, voice low and filled with promise. He closed his eyes and focused on Maedhros’ arms on his skin for a few minutes. “Love this,” he whispered. There was no intent behind their touches, save perhaps a hint of promise for later, but touching and being touched as they went through so simple an activity as eating was delightful. He took a bite for himself, and then reached over to load a bite from Maedhros’ bowl onto his spoon. “Another bite?” he asked, eyes dancing as he held it out for his husband.

"Please," Maedhros hummed, grinning pleasantly. Fingon looked (and behaved) small and young like this, his movements precise and cute. And even while chewing he could hardly keep the grin off his face. "Tea?" He asked.

"But of course, my prince." Fingon set his spoon down and picked up Maedhros' tea playfully, daintily. "Here." He leaned forward slightly, carefully tipping the cup to his husband's lips and delighting in Maedhros' hands continuing to dance across his thighs and waist. "Better?" Fingon set the cup down and quickly took several more bites of breakfast for himself.

"Mm, yes," Maedhros said, resting his head back and gazing up at his beloved. "Thank you." Now he supposed he had to consider the _real_ reason he enjoyed cooking for Fingon so much: he liked watching him eat. He took very small, very precise bites, and, thinking back, Maedhros was now sure he wasn't doing it just to be cute. He arranged bites, breaking up clumps of oats or sugar, and he only mixed strawberries with blueberries, and ate raspberries alone. Maedhros couldn't stop smiling, though he did reach out to grab a piece of bacon and nibbled it.

Fingon smiled down at him, feeling Maedhros' amusement and pleasure though he did not know exactly what the cause was. "Thank you for breakfast melda. This is delicious." Setting his bowl aside now that all of the berries and most of the oatmeal were gone, Fingon braced himself in his arms, lowering slowly until he could catch Maedhros' lips in a fleeting kiss. "Salty," he pronounced with a smile as he pulled back, licking his lips.

Maedhros chuckled. "Well, I could do with some more tea," he suggested. "My kisses might taste better." He ran his fingers up and down Fingon's legs, and, now, he began to notice there was a slight wet spot on his belly where Fingon sat, but instead of being disgusted by it he found it highly erotic. He shifted experimentally, their skin sliding wetly together.

Fingon but his lip, eyes rolling back. "Russ," he moaned before getting control of himself and sitting heavier on Maedhros to still them. "Ah, tea, yes?" He reached for the mug with hands that shook slightly. "Though I've never had a kiss from you that I didn't like." He swallowed heavily as he watched Maedhros sip his tea, eyes drawn to his husband's throat as he swallowed and unable to ignore entirely the lazy thread of desire going back and forth between them. "Are you trying to start something arimelda?" he asked curiously, unable to prevent a small smile.

Maedhros smiled shyly. "Mmmmmaaaybe," he said, playful, imagining Fingon riding him like this, before growing serious. "I don't want to risk hurting you, however. What if I gave you the kind of cleaning you were originally hoping for?" he suggested.

Fingon's lashes fluttered. "I suppose you did promise me that last night." He reached a hand between them, dragging his finger across Maedhros' stomach and bringing it back wet. "Sorry-- I think I'm leaking a bit." He eyed his moist finger for several seconds before putting it in his mouth to clean it. The liquid was cool and mingled with their combined sweat, and nowhere near as pleasant as having Maedhros finish in his mouth. "Nothing too stressful until later-- I can live with that. And even if I just lie back after you're done, I'm sure we can figure out something to take care of you-- my mouth or hands perhaps?"

Maedhros groaned watching Fingon suck on his finger. "Now I think you are trying to start something," he accused. "Here," he said, and sat up suddenly, though he lowered Fingon to the bed on his back with gentleness. "Mm, you are so beautiful," he mused, taking in the sight of his naked lover on his back, legs spread and his sex already responding. He lowered himself to Fingon's level to peer between his legs: "Now let's see where you are most filthy and see what we can do..." And with that he took a long, thick swipe with his tongue over his sensitive entrance.

Fingon laughed slightly as Maedhros moved them, demonstrating how strong his husband was (and yet, with Fingon he could be so incredibly gentle). “Oo-aaah.” Fingon groaned, hips twitching under Maedhros’ hands, his cousin tracing along his entrance. Fingon still felt overly sensitive there and his lover’s tongue was soft and wet and perfect. It was gentle and soothing, though he also felt himself respond already and if this was what his marriage to Maedhros was going to be like Fingon wasn’t sure he could survive. “Russ!” He raised himself, stomach clenching, so that he could see, and when he caught sight of his cousin his breath stopped. “Oh, vennonya, you look perfect there, between my legs cleaning me. So beautiful. So precious and so mine.”

Maedhros raised an eyebrow at him, though he did not stop his movements, tongue focused and precise. He slid his hands up the backs of Fingon's thighs to hold him steady and without warning, nipped him hard on his inner thigh to get him to tighten those muscles. It was crude, and possibly cruel, but it did the trick, and he licked gently over the spot immediately afterwards as Fingon yelped and kicked.

“Russandol!” Fingon yelped. “Yes! I’m yours! I thought that was made clear last night?” He fell back against the bed, though he tangled both hands in Maedhros’ hair, petting him and holding him. “Y-you. You torture me beloved,” he sighed as he relaxed and let his husband do as he wished. "But you're mine too, remember? We promised."

"Of course I am yours," Maedhros said automatically, and huffed as he looked down at his handiwork. "I'm sorry it hurt, but you need to tighten up, just a bit, to heal up--and it was either this or a spanking." He chuckled. "Though," he added, becoming mesmerized by the mark. "I'm tempted to give you one on the other side to match--" he pressed his entire face to the inside of Fingon's thigh, teeth bared in a sudden strike--which never actually clamped down very hard, but Findekáno twitched and flinched and it did the job.

Fingon twitched at the thought, and rolled his eyes knowing that Maedhros could _feel_ as well as see his reactions. He would have gladly taken either one. And he could just _imagine_ what bedroom games would be like--what spankings would be like now, either way between them, with their bond. “Ah!” He clenched at the bite, yanking at Maedhros’ hair. “You’re cruel,” he said, but Fingon’s hips were thrusting up lightly and already he was aroused and needing. “Tyë-melin melindo. Will you please me this morning? And are you going to let me please you this night?” He gasped, toes curling as Maedhros moved over him.

"I will, I will," Maedhros sighed, breath hot between his legs, and he licked up Fingon's hard length until he reached the end, and there he closed his lips over him, looking up to gaze into his eyes. His hands still rested on the inside of Fingon's knees, keeping his legs spread.

“Love you,” Fingon whispered. And he opened himself to Maedhros, sending how incredibly vulnerable he felt like this, spread open for his husband. Maedhros made a sound around him, and Fingon met his eyes and moaned loudly. He wanted anything… and everything. His abused entrance spasmed, ready to admit Maedhros again if only his husband demanded it. His husband’s mouth was hot and wet and perfect, and he shuddered under Maedhros’ hands and tongue. “Please,” he whispered, eyes locked with Maedhros’ and body spread in a position of complete surrender.

Then come for me, Maedhros begged silently, for his mouth was otherwise occupied as he took Fingon to the base and swallowed hard around him, his tongue stimulating what his throat couldn't accept--and he was almost immediately rewarded, first, with a wave of pleasure, and then the taste of Fingon's seed hot deep in his throat, and he milked him thoroughly throughout.

Fingon whined, clutching Maedhros to him. “Russ,” he whimpered. “My Russandol.” And Maedhros kept hold of him as he finished, sucking and lathing him clean even as he began to shudder from too much. When his husband finally released him, Fingon tugged him up his body until he could kiss his husband’s lips and breath against him, bodies pressed together.

Maedhros settled gladly over Fingon's body, stretching out and loving every inch where they touched. They lay gasping for a while before, "There, how was that?" Maedhros asked tenderly, brushing Fingon's hair back from his face. "Do you think you can wait here while I clean up breakfast?"

“Russ?” Fingon leaned into the caress and touched him gently, suddenly concerned. “Weren’t you-- don’t you want… my hand? Or my mouth? Or even if you want inside me again I wouldn’t deny you.”

Maedhros nuzzled him. "I'll wait for you," he assured his beloved. "I want to wait. I have less need than the dishes do, and when I return, we will see." He kissed Fingon and sat up, pulling on the shirt and boots again and gathering up their things. He ate the last few bites of his oatmeal cold. "Will you drink the last of the tea?" he asked, removing the pot from the heat.

“Please,” Fingon said and accepted his refilled cup. He sighed and relaxed against the bedding again, watching Maedhros as he moved. “I’m not sure if I should be insulted or not,” he murmured. He sipped at the tea, pulling the blankets to pool around him as he watched Maedhros move. Silently, he promised to care for his husband so thoroughly sometime soon. But for today he was comfortable not moving and he was happy to let Maedhros spoil him.

"Ai, Finno," Maedhros frowned, returning to him and taking his hands. "Can I not give you your pleasure without thought to my own? Look," he held Findekáno's hand out and released it. "Your hands are shaking, and I know you want nothing more than to lie back down. I only meant I could wait. I don't want you to feel obligated to me in any way, least of all on our honeymoon, when you should be able to lie down when you want to lie down, relax, enjoy your pleasure. You can see to me later. I would enjoy that very much, you know I would." He paused, searching Fingon's face and his mind. "Would you like me to lie here with you? The dishes can wait if you prefer," he offered.

Fingon sighed. “Wash the dishes, Russ. Nusuth. I can wait.” And he tried something for the first time, shielding some of his thoughts from their bond so that Maedhros wouldn’t realize just what he was thinking. He _was_ fairly insulted now, as he never felt obligated to his husband-- like he had been telling him since they first came together he founds Maedhros’ pleasure in many ways more enjoyable than his own.

Maedhros sat heavily, sucking in a breath and pulling his hands back, wrapping them instinctively around his stomach for he felt suddenly ill. Fingon was _gone_. He wasn't in his head anymore and it was suddenly lonely and _bad_. What had he said? He definitely wasn't in the mood now, but he could be if Fingon needed him to. "Don't go," he whispered forlornly. "I'm sorry. Talk to me, please." The shield Fingon put up made him feel like he might be sick.

“Russ?!” Fingon was moving towards him, gasping and almost falling flat on the ground as he realized that Maedhros was right-- he shouldn’t be moving yet- not much, and certainly not quickly. “Russandol, what is it?” he asked, moving to hold his husband to him.

Maedhros creased his brow. "Doesn't it hurt _you_?" he wondered. He felt empty and wrong without Fingon's presence in him, and if he was being punished he ought to know why. "Please don't shield yourself from me," he begged, for now it felt like a giant door swinging open in his mind, letting a cold winter's breeze in, and it stung. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Eyes widening, Fingon sought to take down the shield. “Sorry. Russ, I’m sorry-- I didn’t think-- I was just trying to… I only meant to block a little. Sorry! Melda, venno…” He clutched his cousin’s larger frame tightly, horrified and slightly terrified that he could so easily, so accidentally hurt Maedhros, who he never wished to harm. Maedhros shook slightly under his hands, and Fingon held him more tightly.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Maedhros said. "I upset you. Made you mad. My fault. I didn't--" he made a mental note to never try to do that to Fingon, though he felt immediately better and warmer now that Fingon had opened up again. "Sorry for not--I do need you more than-- more than dishes," he stammered, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Don’t. I know-- it’s fine, Russ. It doesn’t matter.” Fingon pet his head gently, and nuzzled against his neck. “I’m sorry.” He focused on his love for Maedhros, for his best friend and his lover, and rocked them gently.

Maedhros wrapped his arms tightly around Fingon as though afraid he might leave him. "Please," he whispered into his hair. "I would learn from my mistake, I don't ever want to displease you again. Even if it's the slightest thing. I'm sorry, Finno. I love you, I love you, I need you."

“ _I’m_ sorry, venno. It’s nothing- nothing. It was stupid, and I knew it, so I tried to keep from sending that one particular feeling. I didn’t mean to cut you off.” Fingon was almost crying and he felt like such a fool-- like he was almost ruining everything again. “Sorry. My fault and I’m sorry. You’re perfect, Russandol. It wasn’t you.” He clung to Maedhros in return, and his heart felt so full and light with Maedhros’ words-- even if they weren’t needed and even if they weren’t deserved.

"Don't," Maedhros begged, unable to accept that this was not his fault. "I'm sorry. Please, tell me what I did. I--I'm too childish about being c-cut off from you so briefly. Sorry. I'll be better." He wanted to throw the dishes into the lake and never look at them again.

Fingon wound one hand through Maedhros’ hair, and tilted his chin up with the other until their eyes met. “Venno Nelyafinwe Maitimo Russandol,” he said calmly, though with weighted words that seemed to drop loudly without echoing. “This was _not_ your fault.” He kissed the corner of his husband’s mouth. “I was feeling clingy and stupid and knew that I was being an idiot.” Fingon sighed. “I wanted to keep from bothering you and making a fool of myself so I tried to hide that one thought. That was my doing. And I had no idea it would entirely block-- Valar, Russ. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t feel you. Don’t feel bad; I’m so sorry. Just… just sit. You’ve done so much already this morning. Just let me wrap you up and I’ll take care of the dishes, alright? As long as I go slow, I’ll be fine. And you can just relax and enjoy the morning in our secret valley.”

"No," Maedhros said, holding Fingon tightly. "No, you shouldn't get up. I--we'll go together. I'll carry you. I don't want to be parted from you," he mumbled into Fingon's shoulder. "I'm sorry I overreacted. I think--there's a--a way to--b-block--just parts--I promise not to throw a fit next time," he said, trying to smile. "Sorry."

Words weren’t enough, and Fingon used the bond he had so recently tried to close off, pouring feelings of ‘sorry’ and ‘love you’ and ‘anything’ into it. He shifted, holding his husband, and was not entirely certain he could let him go. “Anything you want,” he whispered. “Today you lead, and I shall follow.” He smiled, only slightly bitterly. “Things tend to work out better when we do that.”

"Agreed," Maedhros said, feeling worlds better as he held onto Fingon and let Fingon's love wash over him. "I'm sorry for trying to leave." He laughed. "And sorry to get so worked up over--" well it wasn't _nothing_ , but the sentiment stood.

“Can we just agree to let it go?” Fingon asked softly. “Otherwise I think we will argue all day about who should take most of the blame. And I’d much rather get back to our post-bonding celebration.” He ruffled Maedhros’ hair and tried on a smile. “So, if you carry me to the shore and set me on a rock we can do dishes and then we can crawl back into bed… if that would please you?”

"Agreed, yes," Maedhros said, pulling back enough to look at Fingon, to cup his face and kiss him. "I love you. We'll do the dishes together, please. May I kiss you?"

“Please.” Maedhros’ lips brushed against Fingon’s, soft as rose petals, and his fingers ran down Fingon’s cheek. Fingon slowly deepened this kiss, parting his lips, tongue gently probing at Maedhros’ mouth. “Russ,” whispered in adoration and he melted into his cousin’s kiss and his husband’s gentle embrace.

Maedhros slid back to the bed, pulling Fingon on top of him. "Could stay all day like this," he murmured, and kissed him again, wrapping both arms around behind him.

“Yes,” Fingon murmured against him. He squeezed tightly for a minute and then pulled back, kissing Maedhros’ cheek. “But we were going to go swimming, and then perhaps take a quiet walk alone the shore. I’ll gather new petals for our bed. And we still have dishes to get through.” He leaned their foreheads together. “Tyë-melin. Please forgive me when I cause trouble. And know that it’s never my intention to harm you.”

Maedhros nodded. "I know. I do know better. Tyë-melin, arimeldanya venno. Let's leave the dishes and go swimming now." He made no move to rise, but only gazed up at Fingon lovingly.

Fingon laughed. “Alright. But you’ll have to move us.” He kissed his husband again and smiled. “And I’m afraid you’ll have to get undressed again.”

Maedhros smiled and stretched his hands over his head. "Well if I am to do all the work moving us into the water, you could help me out with that much," he teased.

Giggling, Fingon kissed him and worked off his shirt before shifting lower. He slid Maedhros’ boots off one at a time, gently rolling off his lover’s socks and pressing tender kisses to his husband’s feet. “Better?” he asked from his place at Maedhros’ feet when he had finished.

Maedhros yelped and reclaimed his feet. "That tickles," he said, sitting up on his elbows, grinning broadly, and then moved forward to gather Fingon gently in his arms. Lifting him easily, he walked them to their packs: "Would you grab our soaps and a few cloths? Oh, and towels, those are in my bag."

Fingon pulled out soap and towels, and carefully picked up the robes he had put at the front of his pack the evening before- beautiful ivory robes with red and blue edging. When he had their things together Maedhros lifted him as though he weighed nothing and they made their way to the lake. “Ah… if I put these down, do you want to just walk us right in?” Fingon asked, indicating the bundle in his arms.

"Yes, but," Maedhros said, and began walking around the lake in a wide circle. "I've been doing some research since the last time we were here--and some secret wandering--and I discovered how--or why, really, our stars are made. You see, this lake is fed by a clear spring but there is also a very small--" they could smell it from here, "hot spring!"

"Russ!" Fingon practically squealed his name, arm tightening around Maedhros' neck. "You're spoiling me... that sounds perfect." And a dozen thoughts of half created fantasies involving warm deep water and his husband flew through Fingon's mind and along their bond almost instantly.

Maedhros laughed, sharing Fingon's excitement and many of his thoughts. "Well we should put our soaps and things over where the water is clearer and cooler," he said, lowering Fingon enough to set their things down. "Also it might take us some time to get our hair undone."

Fingon ran his hand along the edge of Maedhros' hair. "It's worth it," he said, and his voice grew soft and reverent. "At the wedding... I think you stole the attention of the entire room. You were, and are, breathtakingly beautiful." Fingon laughed. "I barely made it down the steps without tripping!" He smiled fondly and pressed his lips to his husband's cheek. "That sounds good. Cleaning first and then relaxing and... fun?"

"Not nearly as much attention as you arrested, melda. I was full grown long ago, where you were for the first time presented as of age. I heard whispers of how fine you had grown and when you had become so handsome. To see you that night took my breath, and you've never since given it back." He kissed Fingon as he lowered them into the cool stream water. "Yes, cleaning first. Then fun."

Shivering at the water's touch, Fingon pressed closer to his husband. "Cold," he muttered. Nonetheless they went deeper, and with the stream gently embracing him Fingon tentatively stood. Grabbing the soap he began to wash thoroughly, leaving his hair for last and for Maedhros to help him with.

"I'll do your hair when we're relaxing in the warmth," Maedhros said, wrapping his arms around Fingon as he soaped up to help warm him, and he was even helpful, scrubbing with a soapy cloth carefully between his legs and under his arms. He opened his arms only slightly when Fingon turned toward him to return the favor, and he groaned when Fingon paid careful attention to the space between his legs. "Mm, Finno," he hummed, and slid their lips together. He wrenched the cloth and soap from Fingon's distracted fingers and rested them on the bank before walking them into the warmer water.

Warm water washed over them and immediately began to soften the aches and stiffness from their journey and from their activities the previous night. Fingon moaned and leaned against Maedhros, grabbing his cousin by the hair and pulling him into a kiss. Desire- Russ' as well as his own, ebbed and flowed between them. "'s nice," he said, sinking down until he was neck deep in the water.

"You're nice," Maedhros answered, sliding their arousals together as he lifted Fingon's legs up around his waist, and let his hands linger there, squeezing the soft flesh of his husband's backside almost roughly, where before he remembered to be gentle. "Love you," he panted between kisses, "can't keep my hands off you. Need everything you can give me."

"Anything you want," Fingon replied, gasping and squeezing his legs tighter around Maedhros' waist. "Everything. I need you more than words can say." He tilted his head and ravaged his cousin's neck, leaving a line of red marks from shoulder to ear. "Tyë-melin," he whispered. "And I think I'm still a little wet inside. Do you want me to shift up a little?" Fingon's tongue traced song the curve of his husband's ear. "I bet you'd slide right in."

"Ah, fuck, Finno, I don't want to hurt you," Maedhros gasped, but he teased at Fingon's entrance with a groan. "Tell me if I hurt you?" he asked. "And--and I _mean_ tell me."

"You'd know," Fingon whispered. I won't shut you out again. "But you won't." He looped his arms around Maedhros' neck and pulled himself up, teasing his husband before beginning to lower himself onto him. He was wet and a little soapy, and still partially relaxed and open from before. Fingon's breath hitched and he bit down on Maedhros' shoulder as he was breached. It was tight and uncomfortable as they came together, but then his weight caused him to sink down over his cousin and Fingon moaned against his shoulder, fingers clawing his lover's back.

Maedhros groaned, his eyes rolling back as he dug his fingers into Fingon's backside. Fingon's mouth on him felt heavenly, and Fingon's body opened up to him like it was made for him. Like they were made for each other. "Ai, Fin," he growled at the fingers raking down his shoulders. "You feel so good to me. Let me--in--please--let me know how this feels. Your fëa is a thousand times more intoxicating than your perfect hröa." Indeed, pressing gently against Fingon's soul made him happier than five orgasms could. "I love you. I love you, Fin, I worship you," he promised, as his hips began to move.

Fingon groaned against him, tending the bite he'd left on his husband. Maedhros thought far too well of him... but there was something wonderful about Maedhros' words and Fingon squeezed him in thanks. He pulled himself up, opened his mind wide in invitation and dropped back down with a small scream as his husband's hands tightened on him and Maedhros filled him. "Russ, venno," he mewled, shifting his hips and tugging happily at Maedhros' damp and falling hair.

"Uhhh," Maedhros moaned, pulling back as he felt the edges of pain creeping in. "Don't want to hurt you," he whispered, lips ghosting kisses over Fingon's face, and his next thought, almost accidental, though he was as open to Fingon as Fingon was to him, was: I'd rather you hurt me, and it was erotic. "Just--hold still for me," he begged, "want you to get used to me, I want me to feel normal in you." He held on tight to Fingon and just enjoyed kissing him for long minutes before reaching between them to stroke his hand along his lover's length. "You know, I made one of those plugs we talked about," he whispered, "I carved it out of marble: a toy to keep in you, to keep you full and stretched of me, something to make you feel full even when I am not in you--and then when I take you you'll not hurt so much. What do you think of that?"

Fingon whimpered and clenched around his husband, mind reeling from Maedhros' words and his _thoughts_. He groaned, thinking of the last and tried to answer his husband. "I- I, Russ!" He panted against his throat. "Heavy and cool and... would you just take me whenever you wished?" He swallowed at the thought and hugged Maedhros tightly. "I'd like that. Want that, Russ." He pulled back to kiss Maedhros, and as their lips met he sent his cousin a daydream built of Maedhros wish to hurt pleasurably and of his toy. As his tongue danced with Maedhros' he almost shoved an image at him of Maedhros on their new bed, bound and shaking and wearing his own plug. He was sweating and red while Fingon, flushed and erect, brought Maedhros' wooden brush down across his rear.

Maedhros cried out at the sensations--and at the _thought_. He had meant to say something like 'Yes, any time I please, and often, and you would sleep all night so plugged and be available and wet for me in the morning,' and maybe part of it got through, but then Fingon had to go and think _that_ and everything spun on its head. "Yes," he moaned, crushing his eyes shut as his hips began to move of their own accord. His stomach clenched in desire, and he forgot suddenly how to kiss as his mouth went dry. Now all the filthy things he wanted to do to Fingon had reversed, and it was almost _better_ like this. "Oh, Finno!" And when the imagined brush came down hard on his imagined backside, he twitched, and spent, entirely without meaning to, his hips pumping in and out in quick sharp thrusts.

"Russ?!" Fingon pulled back to watch Maedhros, flooded with the sensation of Maedhros' release. He bit his lip, and brought one hand down to stroke himself suddenly desperate to follow his husband to completion. Their thoughts were going both ways now--what one imagined doing to the other, his spouse imagined doing to him. And Fingon couldn't regret this--he was so pleased to have gotten Maedhros to lose control even if he wished this had lasted longer. But everything was warm and wet and perfect and he clamped down on his husband, and still flooded by their shared fantasy of Russ tied and plugged on their bed, he leaned down to growl in his husband's ear. "That was _mine_ Russandol. And you went and finished alone. You can stay in me just like this until I finish." Maedhros jerked in him again and Fingon could _feel_ his release against his passage. He groaned, moving his hand faster.

Maedhros yelped, a rather undignified, emasculated sound, and he clutched to Fingon now less possessively and more as a lifeline. "Sorry, sorry," he murmured, though he knew Fingon was not truly disappointed (not like last time) (and this felt safe and right and he felt good, he was almost _proud_ of Fingon for unmaking him like that). "Let me--please?" he asked, slipping his hand around Fingon's hand and stroking him, and while he was still hard he managed a few thrusts, hoping the angle was right.

Fingon bit Maedhros lip gently as his cousin began to stroke him, then caught Maedhros' lips in a desperate kiss. He finished quickly, and the sounds he made were muffled by his husband's mouth and tongue. Slowly, Maedhros slipped from him despite his wishes, and when they were no longer connected Fingon relaxed his legs and slipped down to stand next to Maedhros in the water, arms wrapping around his husband and face pressed to his neck. Quietly, gently feelings of love and contentedness passed between them, and Fingon thought that if this was what marriage was like, he was exceptionally lucky and beyond happy. "Tyë-melin, Russandol," he whispered roughly. "Thank you."

"Thank you, meldanya. I love thee. I desire thee. My world, my heart, mind and fëa, revolve around you." They were silent again, and Maedhros held his lover close. "Did I hurt you?" He checked, scooping Fingon off his feet and wading to a shallower end.

“Nuh uh.” Fingon shook his head against Maedhros as he relaxed in his cousin’s arms. “But I can’t stop shaking… I shouldn’t be so tired already. Can we stay in the shallower area- if you would, I’d like very much to relax in your arms in the hot springs and just- just be together for a little while.” He looked up at Maedhros, tucking his lover’s escaping hair behind his ear. “And are you well, arimeldanya?”

"I'll take care of you, baby. I love taking care of you, whether my baby, my boy, or my venno--or my king," he added, with a nod to the fantasy that had pulled him so inexorably over the edge. "Could I just do--or undo, rather--your hair?" He sat on a shallow stone and pulled Fingon onto his lap.

“Kiss me first?” Fingon requested. And after their lips met he turned and settled in front of Maedhros, groaning lightly at the heat that surrounded them. “This feels wonderful, beloved. Thank you so much for taking us here.” He relaxed in the water, reaching down to stroke Maedhros’ thigh lightly. “Irissë did my hair for the wedding. It’s not as complicated as your most intricate creations, but I thought she did a fine job. She had been working on the design for quite a while and was very proud of the completed look.”

"It is beautiful," Maedhros agreed, "or it was. It's a bit mussed now. I'll need your help with mine." As his fingers worked, he leaned forward to kiss his shoulder, and once the braids and twists were undone he pressed the pads of his fingers to Fingon's scalp and rubbed gently.

“Nnnnugh!” Maedhros hands paused for a moment, and Fingon grabbed the thigh he had been stroking. “Please don’t stop! Feel’s good.” He tilted his head back slightly, encouraging Maedhros’ continued ministrations. “And of course I will gladly help with yours. It’s the least I can do, being somewhat responsible for it getting that way. Though I’d help you even if I wasn’t involved.” Fingon had stopped shaking at some point, and he was now warm and comfortable in the water- most importantly, he was on Maedhros’ lap with his cousin caring for him, and soon he would be returning the assistance he was being given. He smiled and let his eyes close, focusing on Maedhros’ skin under him and his fingers in his hair.

Maedhros spent an hour like this, touching his hair, his scalp, combing it out with his fingers tenderly. Sometimes he hummed, but mostly he was silent, and slowly Fingon slipped against his chest. The wonderful thing about hot springs, Maedhros decided, was that they never got cold. Only when his arms finally tired did he dip them below the water and around Fingon's waist, leaning forward again to kiss his neck. "Ready to switch whenever you are," he whispered.

Fingon had been somewhere between sleep and waking, body entirely relaxed and pleased. “Hmm? Oh, right, of course.” Fingon yawned and pushed himself off Maedhros, gliding forward in the water and enjoying its embrace. “This might have become one of my favorite spots in the valley,” Fingon admitted as he swam back to his husband. He smiled at him. “How shall we do this, vennonya? Will you sit on my lap now?”

"As much as I would enjoy that," Maedhros admitted, "I will probably be too tall for you to reach comfortably. He had been poking his feet around experimentally, and found a rock a bit lower down, and sat on it. "Well--a bit lower than I expected," he chuckled as the water reached up to his chin, but his back was to the stone Fingon sat on, and "it this is amenable to you, I am satisfied."

“It’s quite amenable.” Fingon moved so that his legs bracketed Maedhros, and he gently began to untie his husband’s hair and attempt to untangle it. “This will take a while,” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss the top of Maedhros’ head. “So just relax, and enjoy yourself.” He worked from the bottom up, carefully sorting Maedhros hair and laying the damp strands straight, coming through it with his fingers as he worked his way up through Maedhros locks, and letting the straightened sections float free. When Maedhros’ hair was fairly controlled- he would work through it again later with a brush- Fingon began rubbing circles into his scalp, hoping to give Maedhros the same treatment he had received.

"Mm, that's lovely," Maedhros said, his head lolling back. "I'm with you--how could I _no_ t enjoy myself?" he responded, eyes closed and grin wide. "How are you doing, by the way? How's your, ah, backside? Does it hurt to sit?"

“Hurts to move,” Fingon muttered, then corrected himself. “The water is very soothing, and it’s manageable. I’m a bit sore, but it’s nothing to worry about. And I don’t mind the soreness- the cause was well worth it.” He dug his fingers deeper into his husband’s skull. “As you said- I’m with you. How could I not enjoy myself? What about you, my beloved? Are you well? Sore anywhere? I know we’ve been in the water recently, but you’ve been carrying me around and holding me for quite a while.”

"Oh," Maedhros said, taking stock of himself as if for the first time. "I, well--" he thought about this: "I suppose I am sore in a few odd places," he chuckled. "Never from carrying you. Maybe from our _other_ activities." He shrugged. "I was thinking we could try a bit of a swim, but I don't want you to strain yourself."

“I’d like to swim.” Fingon kissed Maedhros’ neck with a smile. “And if I feel strained I’ll just grab your feet and let you drag me along.”

Maedhros laughed. "You did that when you were tiny," he said. "Only you grabbed the back of my neck and we swam--for a long time. You kept asking me to say all these names of things you already knew." He blushed suddenly. "You probably don't remember."

Fingon floated to Maedhros’ front, and cupped his face gently. “Show me?” he asked, pressing their foreheads together. Because that was an option now, and if they could share such detailed fantasies, he was certain they could use the bond for memories as well.

Maedhros sucked in a breath--startled at the request, but also giddy at the opportunity to share: and he did. Fingon was so small then, so petite, and yet his limbs were still chubby with baby fat and he was absolutely angelic. His hair was nearly as long as he was tall and his mother, despairing of it, always kept it back in a single, tight braid. Maedhros had done his hair to match on this occasion (well, he told everyone he had done it so it would not get tangled as he swam, but he told Fingon it was so they would match), and he played with Fingon and Maglor and Celegorm in the shallow end until he and Maglor went out into the deeper areas to do some real swimming. Celegorm had found hermit crabs to play with, but Fingon wept big, fat baby tears to be left behind, and though the adults tried to shush him, and Fëanor even went back out into the water to play with him, still he wept until Maedhros returned, and he latched onto his neck and wouldn't let go. So Maedhros had told him to hold on, and he swam on his back out into the deep water, and Fingon had acted brave even though Maedhros could tell he was nervous that he couldn't see the bottom. Then the "What's that?" game began which Maedhros had thought he'd outgrown, and it was only when he started asking silly questions like "Who's that?" at Maglor that Maedhros knew he had been had, and Fingon laughed to have fooled him so easily. He never did find out why Fingon thought this was funny, or why he wanted to hear him say words like "sky," "water," "hair," or "cousin." Maedhros had tickled him in retaliation, and Fingon had laughed and laughed (he liked being tickled). Then Fingon had latched onto his neck from behind, perched on his back, and Maedhros swam around the lake with Maglor for a long time until, tiring, they swam back. It had taken some prying to get Fingon loose from him, and only the prospect of jam sandwiches made him release his grip. Maedhros had missed the touch almost immediately.

Fingon smiled, flushed, and myriad expressions crossed his face before the memory ended. “I love thee,” he murmured to his husband. “And I do remember that game.” A corner of his mouth tugged further upward. “I loved hearing your voice- you would speak with the high accent to me, which my father rarely used. And you would use it for short words that I knew and could try to mimic, whereas uncle tended towards eloquent speeches.” Fingon tilted his head slightly, separating their brows but bringing their lips together. “Thank you for sharing that with me. It was beautiful.”

Maedhros grinned, the washes of love and adoration that reflected back to him as Fingon remembered softer than Findekáno's arms around him. He returned the kiss gently and lovingly, pulling Fingon close to him. "See I knew you would remember it," he said. "Thank _you_." His eyes caught the glimmering center of the lake, and the desire to move took him again. "Do you think we could try something like that again? If you held onto me I'm sure I could bear your weight, and that way _we_ could swim without you having to move."

"I'd like that," Fingon said, Maedhros' joy at the idea thrumming through Jim. "Though I should swim a little on the way back to stretch out. And we can warm up here and then..." He shrugged. "Perhaps that walk we had talked about? I'm already feeling more capable of movement."

Maedhros kissed Fingon's brow and turned, winding his arms around his neck. "Yes, we'll get you moving in the water, and we can walk later. But for now, just enjoy. Let me pull you along, like you did when you were small." He huffed. "You were always a strong swimmer, though." He slid into the cooler water, arms and legs pumping. "All right?" he checked.

"Perfect. How could I be anything less when I'm in your arms? Well, you're in mine, technically." Fingon rested against him, grateful for Maedhros' warmth now that they were moving away from the springs. "Can we talk while you swim?" Fingon asked after a few minutes. "I was wondering what your favorite part of the wedding reception was? And no saying me! You'd be my first answer, so I mean something besides that."

Maedhros laughed, for of course Fingon read his automatic reply. "We can," he huffed, "though I might need you to do most of the talking." He was silent as he swam and took thought. "I think I liked best that it was small--but the whole family was there. That grandfather spoke over us." He huffed. "You should have seen the madness that was getting me ready for the ceremony! Amil was still doing my hair as we were walking to the stairs--and the Ambarussa were causing mischief, and Atar was being entirely unhelpful." He laughed. "They are just funny, all of them." And as he swam: "The cake was also excellent."

"It was. All the food was. And dancing under all the lights. I loved talking to people and playing cards, and our parents' gifts and grandfather's were so generous!" He smiled. "I quite liked dancing with you and with all our brothers our little sister. And then causing a scene as we rode off into the night." Fingon laughed. "I guess I just loved everything," he said, leaning up to steal a kiss.

"Oh, yes, our gifts! Findekáno, we have our own _home_." He squeezed Fingon's arms happily and continued swimming, until they were at the very center of the lake, and there he paused, treading water, and turned himself so he was facing Fingon. "It was truly the best day of my life--unless that's today, of course," he added with a grin, "and every day with you. I love you, my Findekáno," he said, and pressed their lips together.

Inyë tyë-mela, Fingon thought in return though his lips were otherwise occupied. They kissed lazily, for the sheer pleasure of the act though their bodies were sated. When they pulled back Fingon smiled at his lover. "Our home," he whispered. "And our library." He shook his head, laughing, and bobbed under the water momentarily, stretching and enjoying the freedom of movement in the middle of the lake. Then he looked around at the mountains surrounding them, and the bright cloudless sky. "Agreed," he added. "Every day with you is the best day of my life. And today the scenery doesn't hurt. I adore this valley, Russandol. And I love you with my entire being." He returned to his place in Maedhros' arms, and pointed up at the tallest peak of the Maitimoronti. "Tomorrow, shall we climb it?" he asked. "We didn't have the time to when we first came here. I would like to stand at the peak with you and look out over the valley and up at the stars."

"I live for that climb, Finno," Maedhros sighed. He wanted to climb it now, he had wanted to climb it last night. "I want to bring our bed up there and sleep there with you. I want to lie back and see only stars, and you." He stayed close to Fingon, like he stayed close to him when he was small and learning how to swim--though less now for fear he would down and more that he could not stand to be parted from him.

Fingon grinned broadly. "That would please me greatly melda. Tomorrow, then. And I'm glad you're looking forward to it as much as I am." He kissed Maedhros playfully and swam away a few yards, then waited for his lover to come after him.

"Oho!" Maedhros laughed. "I remember this game, too." He swam slowly but steadily after Fingon, grinning like a shark.

"Are you going to catch me, Russ?" Fingon backed up further, continuing to tread water. If you catch me, you get to keep me, he whispered along their bond.

Maedhros stopped and laughed: "You used to say I could tickle you. I like this better," he growled, and, pumping his arms, swam after Fingon in a sudden spurt of energy.

Fingon splashed backward, laughing as Maedhros caught him and dragged him into his embrace. They spun slowly in each other's arms as the water around them calmed, and Maedhros' eyes danced in the light reflected off the water. "Perhaps I said that wrong," Fingon said thoughtfully. "If you catch me, you have to keep me," was his correction. "And it's too late for you now, vennonya. You have to keep me, and I will be with you always."

Maedhros wrapped his arms tight around Fingon's arms, kicking with his feet to keep them afloat. "You just try to escape from me," he said, and with exaggerated enthusiasm, worried at Fingon's throat with his teeth, where he was quite ticklish.

“Russ!” Fingon yelped. He splashed his husband, and pushed away, swimming off again and leaving Maedhros to chase after him.

Maedhros let him go, and gave him a bit of a head-start before pounding the waves after him. They played this game for some time until they both began to tire. "Are you sore yet?" Maedhros asked. "Or--still?" he wondered nervously. "We don't have to walk anywhere if you don't want to."

Fingon shook his head. “If you don’t mind- we’re a bit shriveled already, but may we sit in the springs a little longer? Then I’m ready to go for a walk. We should hike a bit today, so we’re ready for tomorrow.” Fingon gave him a secret smile.

"Yes," Maedhros agreed. "I would like that very much. And we can dress--if only a bit--and walk for as long as you like. Though all this swimming has made me hungry, so a light lunch first?" He began swimming lazily back to the bank. "Would you like me to carry you back?" he teased, though the offer was genuine.

“Yes.” Fingon surprised both of them with the offer, but smiled. “I’d like to walk with you after we eat, but for now-- will you carry me back?” He loved his husband’s strength, loved that he could carry Fingon so easily, and he enjoyed being wrapped safe in Maedhros’ arms, tucked against him.

"I will," Maedhros answered, "gladly," and rolled onto his back, locking Fingon's arms behind his head. It was harder to stay afloat this way, but he could watch Fingon the entire way back. "You'll have to guide me," he said.

“Letting me lead us on another adventure?” After a brief kiss, Fingon kept his head up where he could watch both Maedhros and the shore, and with only a few course corrections they made their way back to the hot springs. Both Eldar sighed as they reached the warmer water, and Fingon dropped his feet to stand. “I know we want lunch soon,” he said softly. “And I’d like to get to a shallower area and sit. But…” Fingon cocked his head to one side and smiled. “May I carry you the last bit? Just across the spring to the edge where we were before?”

Maedhros smiled. "But I have no money for the ferry. Will you accept a kiss?" He latched on to Fingon's neck.

“A kiss would be perfect payment.” Fingon turned his head, baring his neck further. He laughed before he next spoke. “But how should I carry you, vennonya? Shall I hold you in my arms so that you are mostly in the warm water, or would you wrap your legs around me, and kiss me as I walk us across?”

"I should kiss you the entire way to fuel your passage," Maedhros said, locking his legs around Fingon's waist. "I love you. Thank you." He even giggled as Fingon walked him across. "Your strength never ceases to amaze me."

“ _My_ strength? Russandol you’re the strongest person I know.” Shaking his head, Fingon shifted his grip to hold Maedhros’ rear, tugging him closer against his body. “And being in the water helps me quite a bit,” he admitted. He brought them to spot where Maedhros had done his hair earlier and sat, Maedhros still perched on his lap.

 "Well, I'm bigger," he pointed out, and shrugged, settling on Fingon's lap. He demanded another kiss. "You are beautiful. So beautiful."

“Thank you. But I am what you raised me to be.” Fingon rubbed their noses together. “And if I am beautiful, it is a reflection of your own beauty.” He gently began tugging at Maedhros hair. “Well… it’s not as bad as before, but I think it might be worth washing out your hair one more time and then letting it dry in a somewhat controlled manner as we eat and hike.” Ran his fingers in the back trying to untangle the locks by feel alone as he was pulled into another quick kiss.

Maedhros hummed, also combing through Fingon's hair with his fingers. "Yes, we should rinse it off in the clear water, though. First I want to kiss you," he said, pulling Fingon's lips against his.

Fingon pulled back, eyes lit with pleasure. “I always want to kiss you,” he said. “So if I kissed you anywhere near as much as I wanted we wouldn’t get much of anything done.” Nevertheless he pressed forward again, claiming Maedhros’ lips as one hand sank down, returning possessively to Maedhros’ rear and pulling him against Fingon.

"Mm!" Maedhros grunted against the kiss, trying not to be aroused by this. "Last time I--we should probably--I mean I do still want you to walk with me!" he protested.

Fingon sighed against him, and stopped moving though he let his hands where they were. “I probably couldn’t again- not if we’re going walking and not if we’re climbing tomorrow. But… I could still please you if you wanted.” His eyes slid halfway closed as he looked up at Maedhros. “You still like my tongue and my mouth, don’t you? I certainly hope so, because I don’t believe I will ever get enough of your taste, nor will I ever tire of your weight on my tongue or your desire pressing down my throat.”

Maedhros sucked in a breath. "After--after we wash off? I only mean I don't think the hot springs water will taste very nice. May I wash your hair first?" He grinned shyly, almost laughing at himself. "You know nothing gets me in the mood like having my hands in your hair, and yours in mine."

Moaning lightly, Fingon felt Maedhros’ desire flowing through him, and he thrust lightly against his husband before stilling himself. “I like that too. You’d best get off me if you want to be doing anything else today.” With a sigh of loss Fingon removed his hands from Maedhros. “Very well; my hair, and then yours.”

Maedhros nodded, filling his hands with soap and massaging his fingers into Fingon's scalp. "Beautiful. Your hair is so dark, so lovely. And so soft." He kissed between Fingon's eyes as he lathered up his hair. "All right, now my turn?" he asked, turning and dipping up to his chin.

“You do your hair a disservice, not speaking of its beauty as well,” Fingon murmured as he massaged soap into Maedhros wet locks. “Yours is full, but can be controlled, and the starlight catches in its highlights and is thrown back in shades of red and golden brown. You look beautiful and rare-- a fine prince of Finwë’s line.” He focused on Maedhros’ scalp, again rubbing small circles into it. “And I love the way it falls through my fingers when dry. It’s like the finest silk, or better yet like spun gold with the colors of the furnace bound into it.” He leaned forward and kissed his cousin as one of their stomachs growled- and as in tune with one another as they were the other quickly followed suit. Fingon laughed across their bond as he finished. “I told you before I could worship your hröa, and were we less hungry I would spend longer attempting to do justice to something as magnificent as your hair.”

Maedhros laughed, pressing their bodies together as they returned briefly to the cool water where they rinsed off and got out of the water. Their skin was indeed wrinkly, which was only cause for more laughter as they dried, dressed in their robes and returned to camp for a quick lunch. Maedhros offered his arm, but Fingon took it for contact, not for help walking. "You seem to be doing better," Maedhros commented as they sat down with their sandwiches.

"I'm feeling well." Fingon chewed his first bite as they sat, making an appreciative sound. "And we may not have bonded, but you've stretched me before, fairly often, and I think that helped." He took another, larger bite and swallowed quickly, reaching for their water. "Russ, this is delicious," he groaned. "I love your cooking-even something as simple as a sandwich is much better when you make it!"

Maedhros laughed as he pulled Fingon to slide against him, opting to eat one handed. "I just cut off the crusts. Well and the cheese is very good. And I put bacon in it." Maedhros paused. You know what? I do make very good sandwiches," he agreed. After a moment he leaned down to whisper in Fingon's ear. "Some other time when we don't have climbing and hiking to do, I shall enjoy having you until you can't walk, and confining you to our bed to have again and again. What do you think of that?"

"You know exactly what I think of that," Fingon muttered, trying to control his body's interest in such an idea. His free hand drifted down to stroke along Maedhros' pants, eventually cupping him and squeezing gently. "But- and I've asked this before love- can you keep up with me? You seem to have a habit of holding back and ensuring I release more times than you. Could you tie me down and take me again and again and again? For my hröa would welcome you as many times as you could take it." Fingon grabbed his water, and taking a small sip held it out to Maedhros. "Drink?"

Maedhros ignored the drink in favor of stealing a kiss from Fingon's lips. "I love to see--and feel--your pleasure more than I desire my own. Please believe me when I say I am sated by your ecstasy as much as if it were my own." He took the water now and drank. "Though I could see the fun in denying you release until I'd had you many times just as I wanted," he added with a devilish grin.

Fingon whined slightly, caught in the images and feelings he was receiving from Maedhros. He tapped his growing arousal once and then let go, turning his attention back to his sandwich. "That does sound lovely. Just not when we have hiking and climbing planned. Are you almost ready? I was thinking we could refill the waterskins during our walk."

Maedhros growled and followed after Fingon. "You tease," he accused playfully. "And after you promised me use of your mouth." He flopped back onto the bed and ate his sandwich mock-sullenly.

"Only if you want it, meldanya." Fingon finished his sandwich and licked his fingers before sipping at his water. He gave Maedhros a calculating look, sinking to his knees before him. "Hmm, and if you want it, what is your desire?" He stroked his husband's thigh with a smile. "Would you have me worshipping you as you recline... or would you perhaps press me into our bed and take what is yours?" Fingon looked at Maedhros innocently as he sent him visions of both possibilities. His grin widened at Maedhros' visible reaction.

Maedhros sucked in a breath, his arousal growing and his mouth flapping. "Ah--I--" and then his spirit returned: "I already know what is mine. And I have done you enough damage in taking it. So you may please me as you desire," he said, setting his sandwich aside as he put his hands behind his head where he lay.

"I most desire to please you," Fingon said solemnly with a half smile. "I would do _anything_ for you." He leaned down, mouthing over Maedhros' trousers before he sought to release him. "I adore you," he breathed, unlacing his lover's breeches. "I idolize you," he admitted, sliding the material to mid-thigh. "You were my first hero." Here he kissed lightly at the skin just to the side of his husband’s arousal. "And you are my hero still." He kissed the other side and leaned up, meeting Maedhros' gaze. "Tyë-melin." Then he sank down taking Maedhros deeply, easily, and thinking with a moan that it had been too long since he had Maedhros in his mouth and throat.

Maedhros hissed in pleasure and desire as his body folded up around Fingon, groaning with the pleasure of Fingon's mouth on him. "Uhh, Fin--" he panted, his hips shifting, though he wanted to feel Fingon give more than he wanted to take, so he tried to remain still. "Feel so good. SO good at this. I love you, love you, thank you--fuck!" he cried as Fingon swallowed around him, a stimulation that had him seeing stars.

The corners of Fingon's mouth twitched and would have curled up in a smile were it possible in his current position. He shifted so that he was seated more comfortably and pulled partway off his lover before sinking back down and humming low in his throat. Along their bond he felt his husband's pleasure and his efforts to remain still. Fingon moaned and tried to send back the joy and pleasure he took in this simple act, the comfort of having Maedhros in him and around him and his never ending need to feel his husband's pleasure thrumming through him.

Feeling Fingon's pleasure and desire in this act was dizzying, and he began yelping obscenely. His legs dropped open and he laid his hand on Fingon's head, guiding, but not rough. "Oh, Finno, Fin, I--this, yes, please, I--ughgnnghhhh," he groaned, his head falling back. He was close already, embarrassingly close, as if stamina was a thing he simply didn't have. This was what Fingon did to him.

Fingon hummed around him again, hands shifting to hold his lover's hips down even as he let Maedhros guide his head, feeling his gentle hand more as a caress than a guide. He pulled back and nipped lightly at Maedhros' tip. Will you come for me, darling? He sent the thought in the high accent as he dropped down again, teeth scraping lightly until he was swallowing around Maedhros, nose pressed into his husband's skin.

And Maedhros came--hard, and crying out, fist tightening in Fingon's hair--at his thought, at his demand. He startled himself at his noise, and instinctively cut it off, embarrassed, though it felt good to let go like that. Soon the wash of pleasure overran everything, and saturated to Fingon, his fëa as open and vulnerable as his hröa.

Holding tightly to Maedhros, Fingon closed his eyes and rode out the pleasure of his husband's high. His mind and fëa were open; he latched onto Maedhros, sharing pleasure and giddiness. And Russ let go, at least for a minute-- grabbing him tightly and the _noises_. I could listen to you make sounds like that all day long, Fingon thought, humming softly to try to prolong his husband's pleasure. I love this. Tyë-melin. Thank you, my Russandol. He pulled off with a soft pop as Maedhros whimpered, softening, and looked up at his cousin as he licked his lips with a brilliant smile.

"Fin," he sighed, dazedly, opening his arms. "Come to me. Hold me," he begged. He felt wonderful, in a cloud of safety and warmth and love.

Fingon shifted upward and lay on Maedhros, chin propped on his chest as he looked at his husband. “I love thee,” he whispered, and followed the statement with a light kiss. He was aroused-- how could he not be?-- but he was comfortable, and had no desire to move. “My perfect husband. Do you know how much I love the noises you make for me? You were amazing.”

Maedhros drew in a shaky breath and nodded, smiling. "I'm repressed, is what I am," he laughed. "I should--I'm sorry," he stammered, "I should be more vocal. I love you. I love the way you make me feel." His hands wandered down, pressing curiously between Fingon's legs.

“You’re perfect,” Fingon muttered, breath hitching as Maedhros’ wandering hands brushed against his desire. “I don’t- I’m not trying to change you, Russ. Just want to say thank you for trusting me enough to let got. You honor me. You make me feel… so loved, so desired, so precious to you.” He broke off, moaning as his husband touched him. “Venno,” he whispered, legs and hips shifting.

"I want to change," Maedhros responded. "I want you to unlearn in me the fears I learned that you, luckily, never had a chance to learn." He massaged Fingon now with more purpose. "Would you take me, now?" he asked, almost nervously. "I would like to be made yours as you are mine."

Fingon ducked his head down, pressing it against Maedhros' chest as he bit his lip harshly. After a moment he reached down, taking Maedhros' wrists in his own and drawing his hands up. "Nelyafinwë Maitimo," he whispered, sitting up to look at his husband directly, "if you were to demand any action, any task of me I would do it, for such is my love for you…" He hesitated, sighed, and looked out over the lake before returning his attention to Maedhros. "But if you are _asking_ and not demanding, vennonya, I would wait for later. Not now- not while I'm still sore, not when we've already finished… more times this morning than we do most days we are together. If you would yield to me in this, I would rather we wait." He leaned down, kissing Maedhros' cheek softly. "Will you wait for me, husband?"

Maedhros nodded, cupping Fingon's face instead, and rolled so they lay side by side. "As you wish, vennonya." He looked down, hand hovering over Fingon's sex. "May I? Or should I stop? Should we stop? Would you rather walk?" He wrapped his arm around the back of Fingon's neck and pulled him to him.

Fingon flushed, looking down. “Well, now… if you would, afterwards we could walk. Would you?” Fingon sent a tentative note of apology for asking Maedhros to wait, and then for asking Maedhros to finish him.

"I waited thirty years for you, Findekáno," Maedhros whispered, kissing him tenderly: "Never forget that. I waited for you gladly, and patiently. Never fear that I will wait for you now for anything. Only ask. But for now--" He got up on hands and knees and overturned Fingon, untying his laces and freeing him deftly. "I do so love how you taste," he said, and bent to take him in his mouth.

Fingon moaned, hands going to Maedhros’ head, needing the physical contact. “Tyë-melin,” he uttered, and he moaned loudly as Maedhros took him into his throat. “Love this, Russandol. You’re so _good_ to me!” His hips bucked lightly, forcing him deeper into his husband’s throat.

The honor is mine, Maedhros thought automatically, like he was meeting someone new at one of grandfather's dinner parties, but this was wholly different. He was honored, this was the most honored position he could imagine (unless it was the reverse), and he loved it. He took Fingon deep, and though it took him longer to finish Maedhros attended him no less lovingly. He shared these thoughts and desires with Fingon, shared himself, opened himself up for casual perusal.

“Russ,” Fingon whispered, pleased and compliant under his husband’s mouth and hands. Maedhros’ mind was filled with warm colors and caring thoughts, and Fingon felt treasured, flawless, like a work of art as he (as Maedhros) cherished and pleasured his hröa. He sighed, and panted, and when he finished he made small noises that cut off and hitched with his staccato breaths. Eventually, he tugged at Maedhros’ hair, whimpering and twitching oversensitive skin at his touches. “’C’me here.” Maedhros moved as requested, and Fingon wrapped his arms around his husband’s form. “Thank you,” he breathed into Maedhros’ neck. “Tyë-melin.”

Maedhros hummed, kissing Fingon with the taste of seed still on his tongue. "Tyë-melin, I love you. Thank you," he echoed, cradling Fingon close. He laughed softly. "So, ah, we'll go when you're ready. Sorry I--sorry I got carried away. I just love you so."

"Inyë tye-mela." Fingon pulled back and kissed the tip of his nose. "And please don't be sorry. The things you do to me." Fingon shook his head, smiling. "If you want to help pull me to my feet, perhaps we can grab our waterskins and walk?"

"Well, don't strain yourself," Maedhros said nervously, but gathered him up easily and pulled him to his feet, righting both their trousers. He pressed the last of the water on Fingon. "The clear spring is not far," he said, offering Fingon his arm.

"If you're willing to share we might share one water for the walk and fill the others on our way back," Fingon suggested as they finished clothing themselves. "And perhaps tonight we might walk along the beach in the other direction, surrounded by stars."

"I would like that," Maedhros said, slinging empty waterskins around his shoulders and taking Fingon's hand. "Would you set the pace for us?" He smiled at him, and his eyes were less on his feet and where they were going than on Fingon's radiant beauty.

Fingon squeezed Maedhros' hand as they set out. The sky was clear and the surface of the lake shimmered as they began their walk. Fingon felt his husband's slight concern as a soothing balm in the back of his mind. He ached, but stretching and moving around felt good, and he could not entirely hide his satisfied grin as he catalogued his sore areas and the causes of each small ache and pain.

"You sure you're all right?" Maedhros said, catching indications of pain but also noticing the good feelings associated with them. I mean, I know _I_ am into this, but it doesn't mean you have to be, he added awkwardly, unable to voice it out loud.

Fingon sighed, sliding his arm around Maedhros' waist. "I'm not always into _that_ , but sometimes..." He sent Maedhros a flash of the night after they climbed the crags with Maglor. "Besides, this is closer to a good workout soreness." He shrugged and turned to kiss his husband's ear. "In any case I would suffer far more to have you where you belong- safe and warm, cherished and embraced, held deep within me." Fingon stepped away, grabbing a flat rock and skipping it across the lake.

Maedhros skipped a stone after him and wrapped both arms around him as they watched the light reflect off the water. "I do feel I belong--I mean, not just in a physical sense--I belong inside you. And you in me. I feel happier with your mind touching mine than I ever have in my life. Our bodily union is secondary--" and here he laughed, "and that should tell you exactly how important the union of our fear is to me." He sighed against Fingon. "Ai, Finno," he said, and after a moment shook himself: "The spring is over here."

Fingon linked their arms as Maedhros guided them to the spring. "I feel it also," he said quietly as they refilled a water and left the additional skins waiting by the spring. "You were a part of me even before we completed the bonding- one of the most important parts. I wouldn't give this up for anything." Home, he thought, that was what this felt like.

After a drink Fingon ducked back under Maedhros' arm as they continued along the shore. "So... tomorrow we climb that one," he said, looking west. And it looks like there are even taller mountains to the north. We should have an expedition sometime- just us or we might invite Irissë and Turko along."

"We could try--Turko gets difficult on excursions long enough that he can't wash his hair," Maedhros laughed, pulling Fingon close against him. "But you're right. We should climb them all." He didn't much care where they went, of course: Fingon was his home. He would never be lost or displaces as long as he had him. He sighed. "But yes. Tomorrow, that one. And hopefully there will be no rockslides this time," he considered nervously. "Though, who knows, I might confess something else to you in the heat of the moment."

Fingon glanced at him. "You make me almost wish for another rockslide, husband. Dare I ponder what else you have to confess to me?" Fingon leaned against him as they walked, and was again amazed at his cousin's beauty. Maedhros was made for this valley- he was tall and proud, strong and lithe. He was a near perfect creation and seemed perfectly at home strolling along the edge of the lake. Both Maedhros and their valley welcomed Fingon wholeheartedly, and the more he came to know each, the more they surprised him in marvelous ways. Hot springs, he thought with a smile. Who would have guessed.

"Nothing you can't read from me any time," Maedhros said, hugging Fingon to him. "I'd really rather not experience another rockslide, anyway." He kissed Fingon's head.

 “I’m not actually hoping for that,” Fingon said, fond and exasperated. “The rockslide, I mean. As for you… I know _who_ you are, but I hope we still have some surprises for one another. I quite like your surprises,” he added softly. “And every time I learn a new thing about you it is something more precious than gold or jewels and which brings me more pleasure than the greatest crafts of our people.” Fingon leaned up, planting a fast, sloppy kiss on Maedhros’ chin as they continued their walk.

Maedhros grinned fondly. "Well, all right. I think I can manage that," he said. "And I feel the same: though I've known you all my life, I am still surprised by you, and these revelations make me happy." He kissed Fingon in return. "Here, let's leave the water here and just walk."

“My lord husband’s idea pleases me greatly.” Fingon grinned, leaning against Maedhros’ as they started moving slightly to the east. “And how do you feel this afternoon, my prince, my bonded, my love?”

"Peerless, without flaw," Maedhros answered, but he was looking at Fingon and not at anything else.

“You are, in truth.” A huff of laughter. “And physically, Russ? I may have been in the newer, ah, position, but you cannot deny we’ve both been quite active between the wedding, the journey, last night and this morning.”

"Oh, I'm exhausted," Maedhros answered. "But very happy. Sore in--odd places. And almost sleepy." He laughed. "I look forward to the climb tomorrow."

“As do I.” They walked in silence for a time as the light of the trees blazed forth across the valley and the peaks of the northern mountains shone with a white fire. Fingon kept their arms linked together, slipping away to tug Maedhros by the hand as he found a berry bush he wished to study or a particularly interesting looking tree. He almost ran, pulling along his laughing husband as he found an entire bramble of raspberries and blackberries competing with smaller gooseberry bushes that grew along the southern edge of the tangled mass.

"Raspberries!" Maedhros cried, gobbling some up before he began gathering some for tomorrow. He also liked to sick them in Fingon's mouth, Fingon who was eating raspberries like he hadn't eaten all day. "What a good find, Finno! We should keep some for breakfast."

“We will.” Grinning as he swallowed another berry his husband had stuffed into his mouth, Fingon squeezed a gooseberry and, finding it slightly under ripe, stuck it within a blackberry and pressed it against Maedhros’ lips. He laughed at his husband’s slightly puckered expression and leaned in to kiss him in apology.

"Mm, an interesting flavor combination," Maedhros teased, cleansing his palate with a raspberry. "I'll have another of these, though," he said, kissing Fingon again.

“Here,” Fingon said, pulling off his shirt. He tied it into a rudimentary sack that they could carry berries in, and began filling it with all three varieties. “Have you thought of some brilliant way to incorporate these into our dinner? If not I could lightly sugar them and they could be used as a side dish.” He looked at Maedhros and lowered his lashes, stepping forward to press them together as he leaned up for a kiss. “Or perhaps I should save them for desert,” he said thoughtfully. “The raspberries, at least, we could take to bed. And I could trail them down your body and eat them off your skin.”

"Ooh," Maedhros groaned. "I think I spent much of your life telling you not to play with your food, but I approve of this," be grinned. Once they had picked the bushes clean, they turned back toward camp.

“Shall I tell Ambarussa that your thoughts on the subject have changed?” Fingon asked with a laugh. They continued south, not immediately returning to the lake’s edge, and Fingon grew to love the area more and more. Eventually, however, they reached the spring and refilled the rest of their waterskins before making the final walk to the camp. Fingon spent the last part of the walk only half paying attention to his path, lost in thoughts of his husband treading this way the previous evening.

"I brought some drawing books and pens," he said, snapping Fingon out of his thoughts. "We could survey the area, or--we could draw--I would like to draw you before we lose light."

“We’ve already explored further than when last we were here. And later I’d like to go with you along the western edge of the lake- where I ran last time.” Fingon smiled. “Drawing next, then?”

Maedhros smiled. "Yes. I could put some soup on for supper. I don't think I'll be able to draw anything but you. You've taken over my thoughts entirely."

“Then draw me,” Fingon said, spinning in place. He felt effervescent and was in the mood to tease lightly. “I don’t think you’ve given me anything to quite match a couple of the sketches I’ve given you. Not equal poses, I mean.” He studied Maedhros, hoping to see him flush.

"I would like to draw you," Maedhros said, though he flushed at his next words thinking of some of the more graphic sketches Fingon had drawn of him over the years but which Maedhros had not yet worked up the courage to mimic. "I. Yes. Well. I'll do my best. I would love to draw you."

“And how would you draw me, vennonya?” Fingon asked, drawing close to him. “By memory or from imagination? Or would you have me pose for you?”

Maedhros huffed. "Certainly I'd have you pose. You'll get something abstract and fanciful if not--or you might get that anyway." Maedhros was expert at simple art. He could forge a ring or draw a bowl of fruit better than anyone. It was when he started getting creative that things got wild and unmanageable--when his art resembled his mother's, abstract and fanciful and usually wild. That had happened that time in grandfather's library with Fingon and the wings, and he hadn't drawn much since.

“I like all your art,” Fingon told him. “Though at some point I may be asking you why, when I was drawing you in all your glory, you were drawing me dressed and posed as my lord uncle.” He smiled mischievously, moving to wrap his arms loosely around Maedhros’ neck and look up at him. “And how would you pose me, melindo? Bedecked in wedding garments, or robes made specially for our bonding trip? Or perhaps pleasuring myself?” Fingon kissed him lightly, apparently thinking for a moment. “Or would you put that marble toy that you've made in me, redden me, and leave me to squirm while you drew?” He looked up into his husband's slightly dilated pupils. "Or are you thinking of something I've not named?"

Maedhros smiled wolfishly. "Well, that is a good idea, but I had other, possibly filthier thoughts." We should hurry back if you want to find out.

Fingon could feel Maedhros' idea, wrapped like a present in the depths of his mind. Fingon passed by it without looking, knowing he could open it but wishes to please his husband and let him surprise him. He laughed and grabbed Maedhros' hand, quickening their pace as they wound their way back to the campsite. Fingon felt overheated, unable to stop thinking of what Maedhros could have planned. Soon, they were entering the area, and Fingon moved to deposit the waterskins he carried and the barriers, rocking on his heels slightly as he waited for Maedhros’ direction.

"I'm going to have to--" he laughed at himself, for he almost made it sound like a chore-- "I'm going to have you one more time," Maedhros said, "if you think you can handle it." He raised a questioning eyebrow. "In fact I'd like to watch you stretch yourself while I put supper on." He had an idea for this, too, but he wanted to see if Fingon felt up to it.

Hesitantly, Fingon put his hand on his husband’s arm. “I would always like to have you in me,” he murmured. “Only, if we are climbing tomorrow… be gentle?” The last was a softly spoken plea as Fingon looked up at Maedhros.

"I will," Maedhros promised. "Loving, and slow--so slow you'll become impatient with me," he grinned, pulling Fingon softly to him and kissing him. "Now would you like to do something for me?"

Fingon nodded promptly. “Anything,” he replied.

Maedhros grinned, hand traveling down to squeeze his backside possessively. "All right." He kissed Fingon once more before releasing him. "Ah--go to my pack. Get me my drawing pad and a few pencils. You'll also find a gift wrapped in blue paper. You can open that."

Quickly retrieving the items, Fingon set up Maedhros pad and pencils and inspected his wrapped gift. Sitting on their bedding, he carefully untied the ribbon around it, and pulled off the paper. “Russ?” Inside was a piece of carved and polished marble, heavy and smooth in his hand. “Oh.” Fingon held it, running his free hand along it and feeling its heft and its shape. “Valar, Russ,” he whispered. “I… I want-“

"Want?" Maedhros echoed, smiling as Fingon held the dildo with mixed awe and concern. He had carved it himself, using himself as more or less a model (well, less, it was smaller than him at full hardness), and he had hollowed it out so it would be lighter and easier to handle. "Would you like to stretch yourself for me with it? I might get a few quick sketches in, but I need to get soup on and want to see you're well taken care of in the meantime." He cupped Fingon's chin. "Will you do that for me?"

Fingon nodded, leaning forward to brush their lips together. “Shall I, on the bed, then?” Fingon moved to retrieve the jar of oil, arousal already straining at his trousers at the thought of doing this-- of _performing_ for Maedhros as he cooked and sketched. With one hand he began unlacing his trousers and kicking off his boots.

"Yes, on the bed, please," Maedhros said, watching his movements carefully, paying more heed to Fingon than the ingredients for the soup were getting (he was going to forget something, or put the berries in on accident like this). "And take off all your clothes."

With a soft moan that Fingon did not try to bit back he began working at his clothing. He let its removal become a tease, hands sliding over his own skin as garments slowly lowered and dropped. And then he was ready, aroused and flushed. He lay back on the bedding, setting the piece of marble next to him, and he spread his legs eagerly. Then, after dipping his fingers in the oil, he began to carefully stretch himself. He ached, and his entranced spasmed in concern of this repeated abuse as well as in interest at the proceedings. But Fingon’s hands were slender, and his touches were careful as he began to ease fingers inside himself. The bond made him incredibly aware of Maedhros’ presence and his watching eyes.

"Don't hurt yourself," Maedhros begged softly. "Go slow. Tell me if you need to stop. Do _not_ finish until I say," he added with a bit more force. He built up the fire and put a pot of water to boil over it and then picked up his sketchbook and a pencil, drawing quick, abstract lines. "Lift your legs so I can see," he asked, his drawing showing the focus of his mind as he suddenly focused carefully on getting the curve of Fingon's backside just right.

 Fingon pulled his legs higher, feeling vulnerable and incredibly aware of the view he was presenting to his husband. “Russandol,” he moaned. He didn’t need to look at Maedhros; he could feel him in a warm corner of his mind, and knew he was watching. Instead Fingon let his eyes fall shut and focused on the feel of his fingers, thinking of the many times he had done this to himself dreaming of having Maedhros inside him instead. And he thought back on a night long ago, imagining the countless ways Maedhros might take him. “Russ,” he breathed, brow furrowing as he poured more oil over his hand and added another finger. His muscles twinged and he paused, breathing out as he slowly eased it further within.

"Finno," Maedhros answered softly, beginning a new, quick sketch. Fingon was impossibly flexible and Maedhros was already straining in his trousers, but he was determined to wait. "Slow," he urged. "Careful. Do you hurt?" he pressed, putting his pencil down.

Shaking his head fervently, Fingon tried to press deeper, body shuddering. He slowed his hand in compliance with Maedhros’ demand and twisted the sheet with his free hand. “Please,” he whispered, half-lost in a fantasy even as he felt Maedhros’ pleasure and need across their bond.

"Please what?" Maedhros asked lightly, picking up his pencil again and adding more flush to his lover's cheeks, sending waves of gratitude and pride and desire to Fingon.

“Nothing. Just want- want…” Fingon twisted his fingers, hips jerking as he located the right spot. “A-aaah! Oh, Russ.” He pressed against himself again. “Mmm. When can I use your m-marble?”

"Stretch yourself more. Does it hurt?" he checked. He broke his pencil aganst the paper.

“Not having more hurts,” Fingon said with a slightly desperate laugh. “Love you. Need this.” He pressed deeper, ready to add another finger if Maedhros would not let him have the plug.

"One more finger, then you can start with the toy," Maedhros said. The water was hot, so he moved it off the heat and added the bacon from breakfast.

Fingon sighed in acknowledgement, adding a third and fourth finger with a loud moan. He gasped as the fingers suddenly slid all the way to his thumb, and his eyes flew open, looking over to Maedhros.

Maedhros put the book down, going over to him. "Are you all right?" He checked, seeing Fingon almost afraid.

Nodding mutely, Fingon wiggled the fingers and almost sobbed with pleasure. “Good. Good-- wantmoreRussplease! Your hand, your mouth, my whole hand, the marble-- please, melda, tell me what I should have.”

"You shall have it all, in time, melda," he promised him, sliding his fingers through his hair. "Can you be good for me until then?" He carefully oiled the phallus and laid it in Fingon's hand. "Be gentle. Just stretch. Don't come." Laying a kiss on his brow, Maedhros went back to his cooking pot and his sketchbook.

A bead of sweat rolled down his face as Fingon breached himself with the marble. It was wet and oh so cold and like nothing Fingon had ever felt before. There was no give in this, and it forced his body to shift and accommodate its every curve. “Ruuuuss,” he whimpered, edging it deeper. “Oh, oh Valar, Russandol. I-it feels…” Fingon opened himself, sending sensation and thoughts across their bond. "Did you know? Did you expect…?"

Maedhros huffed, distracted from both his tasks. "Yes, I--" he had tried it, more to make sure it was safe than anything, but though he had enjoyed it, it didn't in any way prepare him for this, for seeing Fingon's body swallow it up. "No," he answered helplessly. His pencil was going without him paying attention to it.

Fingon whimpered and moaned, back arching as he took more of the cool rock into himself. “Russ. Vennonya.” He slid his hand around the base and twisted, hips jerking. “Aaah!” Fingon was flushed and pleased and beyond himself, playing with his gift and trying to determine all of the various benefits it provided.

"So good, so beautiful," Maedhros hummed as Fingon slid the entire length into himself. "Good, now pull it out and in a few times. Does that feel good, Finno?" He asked, mouth dry.

“Very good. Very.” Fingon’s tongue snuck out, licking along his lips as he shifted the toy within him. “If I had tried this before having you within me, I would have said it was the best thing I’d ever felt.” Fingon’s hips rotated in a slight circle, and he gasped as the stone phallus pressed against his walls.

"Okay, good," Maedhros said, and bit his lip to keep from grinning evilly. "Now, are you stretched? Then I want to push it in you as far as it will go, and hold it there. Put your legs down and your hands at your sides and hold still for me while I get the soup on. Can you do that for me?"

Fingon whimpered, but did as his husband asked. He almost yelped as he moved his legs, shifting the stone within him. Finally, he lay flat on the bed, heart racing. He was flushed and sweating, and Fingon could _feel_ it deep inside him, cool and firm and pressing against him where it lay. He could have cried, but instead gripped the sheets firmly and focused on not moving. He focused instead on keeping their link open, and trying to pour what he was feeling into his husband. He loved this, wanted this. And staying still… it was hard and difficult and he _wanted_ to move, but there was something deeply pleasing about staying like this for his husband, being a piece of art for him and under his command. He bit his lip and breathed in carefully through his nose.

Maedhros smiled, soaking in Fingon's pleasure and strain like something delicious. "Good," he hummed as he worked on the soup, cutting vegetables and filling the small pot. He turned around. "So good. I'm wasn't going to draw you like this, but you're just so beautiful." He picked up his book and drew.

Fingon’s breath caught, and he found himself caught on the edge of blinding sensation. He closed his eyes and shook, waiting on his husband’s command.

"Good boy, good," Maedhros said, sketching quickly. "So beautiful. Love you. Love this. You look so delicious." He colored in Fingon's flushing arousal against his belly before setting down his book and pencil. "Are you ready for me to take you again?"

“Want that. Please, venno.” Fingon’s hand twitched, but he planted it firmly again. “May I do something first? I’d just… I’ll stay like this, but I’d like to put a hand on my stomach. I feel like I might almost _feel_ it. Please, may I move my hand?”

"Yes, you may," Maedhros said, crawling over to him and watching him closely. He closed his fingers around Fingon's sex saying, "Here, I'll hold that for you."

Lips pursed together, a plaintive sound still escaped Fingon as his husband took him in hand. Slowly, as though he might shatter if he moved too much or too quickly, Fingon lid his right hand up across his stomach, pressing where he felt so full. His muscles were tensed and he swore he was protruding slightly. Silently, he looked over at Maedhros trying to demonstrate his thanks by expression alone. His hand made a few small circles across his belly before lay it flat, splayed and grounding him as Maedhros’ hand sought to further undo him. He stared up at the stars focused on his hand on his stomach, Maedhros' hand on his arousal, and the cool marble sliding in his rear every time he moved- seemingly ever time he breathed.

"All right. You've been so good. You know that isn't quite as big as my cock?" He whispered, brushing Fingon's hair back from his face. He gathered Fingon' s legs in his arms and lifted them, together, so that with his other hand he could slide the toy in and out experimentally. "You're so good. Love seeing you open for me. Now hold on, Finno. I don't want you to finish, remember. Tell me if you get close."

“Close,” Fingon whispered, only half aware of his surroundings. “But I will wait for my prince’s command.” This felt good, nice. He didn’t need to move, didn’t need to do anything. Instead he relaxed on their bedding while Maedhros easily held his legs and worked his marble creation in and out of Fingon. “Feels good.”

 

"Good. I do want you to wait now," he added with some sternness, and slid the toy out of him entirely. "Now I want you to get on your hands and knees, Finno," he said, wiping off the toy and putting it aside. "Can you do that for me? I'm going to fuck you."

“Gently. Please,” Fingon reminded him. And he swept the following thought to the side, wrapping it in his mind much as Maedhros’ plans had been with a soft ‘please don’t look’ on the outside. Because when they reached the top of the peak on the southwest side of the valley, Fingon had plans for them. But for now, he rolled, raised himself, and, feeling exposed and empty and vulnerable, he waited for his husband to take him.

"Gently," Maedhros echoed, sliding over the top of Fingon and pressing his chest against his back. He ignored the thoughts Fingon set aside for him and focused on the moment. "So beautiful like this. Want to draw you at every stage." He kissed Fingon's soft shoulder. "Not going to hurt you. I'm going to be quick. So hard for you already. Now. I need you not to move and not to come and I will reward you so handsomely. Can you do that for me, love?" he asked, lining himself up at Fingon's entrance.

Fingon swallowed hard. “Anything. I am yours, prince, hröa and fëa.” He relaxed slightly as Maedhros entered him, enjoying the warmth and the silky softness of his cousin’s skin. “N-next time, if this really isn’t to punish me… might you tie me off, my lord? That way I can- can just let go and not worry about, ah, finishing too soon?”

Maedhros pulled out. "Do you need me to now? This isn't to punish you, darling. I'm asking you to do something hard for me so I can reward you after. With a lovely picture and with something else. I'll take such good care of you, I promise. Do you need me to help you keep from coming?" He brushed Fingon's hair over one shoulder.

Shaking his head, Fingon groaned. “I- I can do what you want. Sorry. Sorry.” He shook slightly, and in some ways Maedhros’ gentle touches were even harder to bear. His toes curled and he ducked his head down, pressing his head down to the bedsheets as he tried to control his breathing and his body.

"Okay. I'm going to fuck you, love, I just need you to hold on for me," Maedhros said, beginning to move, in slow, deep strokes that brought him close to the edge while being gentle on Fingon, and he kissed softly along his neck and closed his fingers around his sex to keep him from finishing as his thrusts grew quicker and more erratic. "Gonna--" he panted, "gonna fill you up, baby--" It didn't take much before he finished, pumping into Fingon and filling him with his seed. Gasping, Maedhros pulled out carefully, leaving Fingon shaking and shivering on his hands and knees. "That's all right, you're all right," he told him, releasing his grip on his cock and kissing down his spine. "Can you stay like that for me, my love? Just like that."

Fingon tilted his head in a movement meant to be a nod, groaning as he felt his husband dripping from him. “Russ,” he whispered, then shook his head leaving the thought unfinished. He bit at the pillow beneath him, arms unsteady and thighs trembling.

Maedhros slid back until he was at his book again. He cleaned himself off quickly, checked the soup, and picked up his sketchbook and pencil. He drew Fingon as he was, from behind, his sloppy, used, leaking hole the focal point of the image, his shaking thighs indicated by soft lines. The curve of his backside was perfect--except-- "Fin, would you look up for me? I want your head up and back arched. Pretend you're sucking me from that position. Can you do that, Fin?" he asked, and, "Ah, perfect," he sighed as Fingon complied. His pencil flew across the page, and when he was done he went back to fill in more liquid leaking from Fingon, sliding down his thighs. He decided he messed up his toes and drew boots instead, tall riding boots, and drew clothes (fine ones, like his wedding clothes) in tatters all around him, and he began to fill in a body in front of his face (like Fingon was sucking his cock), a hand (the left hand, he noticed later, as he'd forgotten he was drawing in mirror image) though, if it was a self-portrait it was highly narcisisstic, for he was massively muscled. He supposed the entire image was narcissistic. Finally, he added a crown (much like grandfather's crown, the crown of High King), resting crooked on Fingon's head.

He pulled back to peer at the image, displeased at himself that he got carried away again. He tossed it to one side and, "Done, love," he said, sliding over to him again.

“N-no, no I’m not. You’re the only one who finished,” Fingon teased gently, letting his head drop back down to the sheets. “I’m close,” he murmured, mostly to himself.

"I know you are, and you were so good for me," Maedhros hummed, petting up and down Fingon's back. "How would you like to come? May I take you in my mouth? Would you like the toy in you again? You can lie on your back if you want," he said gently.

“On-- on my back, please. Shaking too much.” Fingon tried to remember what else he was supposed to choose, and couldn’t. “Everything-everything else, whatever would be please you.” He managed to raise his head to look at Maedhros, and was comforted by the red presence in his mind and the pleased look on Maedhros’ face.

"Okay, okay, I got you, hush," Maedhros said, kissing Fingon as he guided him first to one side and then onto his back, and settle himself over him. "You were so beautiful, so good for me. How about both? Would you like both? You could have me in you and you in me at once. Would you like that?" He reached for the phallus and kissed the tip of Fingon's leaking sex.

“Mhmm. Russ?” Maedhros paused and looked up. “Later, in our new crafting area… in our house, will you make me another one, or let me design one? A piece of marble that is an exact replica of you?”

Maedhros smiled. "Only if we get one that's just in your shape, too," he said, kissing Fingon's brow before leaning over him and, as he took him in his mouth, pressed the toy back inside him.

Fingon’s back rose from the bed in a graceful arch. He threw his head back, mouth dropping open on a long, pleased sigh at Maedhros’ actions. “This feels… so good… my husband,” he groaned. “Though I admit I’m somewhat-- jealous--that you had this i-in you on your own.”

Maedhros huffed around him, and slid off with a pop. "You may punish me however you choose. For now, enjoy. Guide me. Do you want this in you far?" He asked, pressing on the toy and closing his mouth around him.

“Y-yeeeesss.” Fingon bucked his hips lightly, yelping as the unforgiving length inside him shifted. “Far,” he whispered. “And I want to be deep in you.” Fingon set aside thoughts of Maedhros’ ‘punishment’ and brought a hand down to guide his cousin. He smoothed over the top of his head and then pulled him closer. “Perfect,” he groaned.

Maedhros took Fingon deeply, knowing how close he was already, and pressed the toy far inside, slowly, until he began to strain, and then he stopped and slid it out, and pressed it back in. He continued this motion as he swallowed around him, holding the position until he couldn't breathe.

“Russ,” he groaned, petting him tenderly as his husband pulled back. “Please… soon? Can I-- may I?” His upper body arched upwards though his hips remained pinned by Maedhros’ mouth and toy and hands.

Yes, yes, let me taste you, Maedhros begged silently, shifting the angle of the phallus inside him while swallowing him down.

Fingon came with a yell, barely able to move his hips and aching, aching with want and need. And even as he poured himself into Maedhros’ mouth, and poured his pleasure into his mind, part of Fingon wanted to have his husband within him again. Or to bury himself within his husband. He clenched around the marble phallus, moaning softly as Maedhros worked him through his completion with a nimble mouth and tongue.

 Maedhros drank him down, finishing him from both sides before sliding the toy out, popping off and licking his lips, and crawling up Fingon's body so he lay over him and pulled him into a protective embrace. "I love you, Fin, I love you, so good for me, thank you. Love you," he whispered, pressing kisses across his face and neck.

“Shouldn’t I be thanking you?” Fingon asked with a soft laugh, trying to catch his husband’s lips with his won. “I love you. Thank you. You have been so good to me, vennonya. Tyë-melin.” They held each other for a time; eventually Fingon could smell the soup simmering nearby. His stomach chose that moment to growl, and Maedhros’ laughed softly. “Did you want help preparing the rest of dinner, melda?”

"No, let me take care of you," he whispered. Leaning over, he retrieved a cloth and cleaned them both carefully. "You can help me by stretching and making sure you feel all right." He covered Fingon with a light blanket and, smiling, pushed his sketchbook over within reach as he turned his attention to the soup. He took it away from the heat slightly, and began slicing and buttering bread.

“May I?” Fingon called as he stirred, reaching for the sketchbook. He trailed a hand over its soft cover, and looked over at his husband who was busy at the fire preparing what would surely be another fine meal for them.

"Of course. I should say I can't be held responsible for sketches drawn in the heat of the moment, however." Pencil art like this was a very--vulnerable thing for Maedhros. He worked quickly, as he couldn't do with stone or metal, and too often he became carried away with his drawings, and his fingers would almost carry on without him. Mother thought he might have the gift of prophesy in his drawings. Maedhros didn't think so, but they were a glimpse into his soul, anyway.

Fingon began turning the pages blushing more and more brightly. A startled “eep!” made its way from his throat at one image of him spread and dripping. “Valar,” he muttered, pressing a hand to his abdomen as his body seemed to debate trying to rise in passion again. “I don’t understand why you call yourself a poor pencil artist,” Fingon called to his husband. “Though I don’t imagine I actually look like… like that.” He smiled, even as he flushed, and know Maedhros could feel his appreciation of the art and of how Maedhros viewed him.

"I just mean I get fanciful," Maedhros said, waving his hand, dismissive of the work. He was solemn, steadfast, predictable, practical. His smiles were shared with few (and Fingon got most of them). The drawings ruined his image. And, well, these were simply pornographic. But-- "You do look like that to me," he said, and tasted the soup.

“You’re too kind,” Fingon murmured. “Actually,” he pushed himself to sit upright and looked over at Maedhros. “Should I be questioning that? Now you’re adding random bits of clothing to me- or around me- but I seem to remember how you’ve clothed me in the past. I didn’t realize it at the time but you,” he pointed at Maedhros, “dressed me as my lord uncle and stood me at his anvil with his tools. And I still haven’t quite figured out why. I know I sound like Fëanáro sometimes, but…”

Maedhros flushed, the spoon clattering as he dropped it. "Oh! I, ah--no, I only meant--" He thought about that, too, often. "I think I meant it that--well, you know, my father is the elda I admire and respect more than any other. Or, at least, he was." He turned fully to face Fingon now, smiling softly. "Now that is you. I'm sorry I--it's awkward. I certainly do love you both in the same way!" He pulled the book back, pushed it away. "I told you it's rubbish."

“I should hope not!” was what Fingon meant to say. He was smiling at leaving Maedhros’ tongue tied until his husband reclaimed the book, speaking ill of his art. “Russ!” Fingon stood, dropping the sheet and quickly pressing himself to his husband, holding him. “I’m sorry. I was teasing and I’m sorry.” He kissed Maedhros gently. “I love your drawings, I am flattered that you drew me as you did, and… we are Noldor, venno. Knowing that I inspire you is wonderful. Frankly it’s inspiring to me.” The corners of his mouth curved upward, tentatively.

Maedhros' mouth tightened into a line, but it quickly spread to a smile, and he leaned forward to kiss Fingon. "It can inspire you after supper," he said, holding Fingon against his side as he stirred the soup. "It will be ready soon." Laying the spoon aside he wrapped both arms around Fingon and laid down. "You're more beautiful in real life than I could ever draw you--but I do enjoy drawing you."

“Only because you make me so, Fingon answered. “Tyë-melin. And I enjoy drawing you as well.” Fingon snuggled against his cousin. “Is dinner almost ready,” he asked with a yawn. “I was thinking we might have dinner, and then perhaps a walk along the beach once the stars light up. If you are willing we could save dessert for when we retire for the night-- I will put a bowl of berries together for that purpose.”

Maedhros smiled. "That sounds wonderful. And the soup is ready, but the flavors are melding. Also, I am holding you, and enjoying it." He slid his hand down Fingon's back to touch his entrance gingerly. "All right?" he asked. "I really need to stop and let you heal."

“We need to stop,” Fingon corrected. “But how can we? It was difficult to stay away before, but now that we are bonded to be parted is torture. We both said it before- you are a part of me now, and when you are not with me and in me I feel like something is missing.” He sighed contentedly as Maedhros’ fingers trailed across him. “That feels good,” said quietly, tilting his head to ask for a kiss.

Maedhros kissed him gladly and easily. "Well, I think I can manage looking forward to our climb tomorrow. And I hope I've exhausted you," he laughed, "but perhaps not. I don't mind working a little harder to see to it you have a good night's rest. We have nine years' worth of creativity to draw from, I think we can find a way without wearing you out too much." He hitched his leg over Fingon's hips. "The, ah, toy? Did you enjoy it? It's really more a prototype, we might make others of different sizes, of different materials, until we find one you really like."

Fingon shivered. “Couldn’t you feel how much I liked it? That was… incredible. Cool and slick and so perilously hard and unforgiving. I enjoyed it very much.” He pressed his lips to Maedhros jaw, then pulled back. “I just thought of another useful thing about them- you realize we could both be penetrated at once, using that? You could slide inside me to take me again, and at the same time I could reach behind you and just… slip that in. Do you think you would enjoy that?”

Maedhros shivered in response. "I think I would," he answered, sliding against Fingon, hugging him tightly. "Endless opportunities," he chuckled, and held Fingon like this for some time in silence. He sat up, cleaning his hands and the toy before turning again to the soup. "Can you sit up--comfortably, I mean? The soup's ready." He filled two bowls and set out bread.

"This smells wonderful," Fingon complimented as he sat up. "Are you sure you don't need me to do anything?" He pulled on a white robe and stretched as his cousin finished setting out the food.

"Keep saying things like that," Maedhros chuckled. "My talents are wasted on anyone but you, and you are always so sweet and grateful." He kissed Fingon before draping a napkin over his lap and handing him a bowl and two thick slices of bread.

“You just like to spoil me. And nowhere in Aman can I get cooking that I enjoy as much as yours.” Fingon nibbled the corner of once slice. It was thick and rich and hearty-- exactly how he best liked it.

"I do like to spoil you," Maedhros laughed, indicating the large pack that was just for food. "I think I can only continue to spoil you for two more days before we'll be roughing it. But I gave Tyelko very specific instructions for stocking the larder at the cabin, so when we get there we should be all right." Maedhros ate quickly, not wanting his soup to cool.

Fingon began to eat as well, blowing on each spoonful of soup to ensure it was not too hot. "Thank you," he murmured. "You're wonderful to me. And even roughing it will be wonderful so long as I am with you." Fingon laughed. "Besides, this valley seems to be full of delights- fresh berries, a pond and streams heavily stocked with fish, plenty of greens… we'll be eating like princes the entire time we're here!"

"True!" Maedhros said. "We could fish, and I dare say Tyelko and Irissë could rustle up some game in the area. How's the soup? Would you like more? Does it need more salt?"

"Perhaps a little black pepper? It's very good, though." Fingon smiled and leaned against him. "We could hunt, or fish. I'd even be happy foraging a bit- it would provide an opportunity to adventure along a bit more of our valley." Fingon's eyes danced at the word adventure, and he felt Maedhros' smile as he said it.

Maedhros' eyebrows danced. "Adventure? Yes. I think we could find some lettuces for a nice salad." He handed Fingon a small box of pepper. "We can stay here as long as you like."

"Thank you." Fingon sprinkled pepper into his bowl, smiling at the next spoonful. "It's very good. Try some?" He offered his bowl to Maedhros, grabbing another spoonful as he did so. "I'm quite hungry, Russ. I'm not sure why- we had a nice walk but we haven't done anything too strenuous today. And we had a hearty breakfast."

"We've done plenty strenuous," Maedhros said with a half grin, trying Findekáno's soup and adding more pepper to the whole pot in agreement. "Eat as much as you like, or we'll be having soup for breakfast,"

Fingon laughed as he dipped a chunk of bread into the broth. “This is delicious. I wouldn’t mind that… except that I’d miss out on one of your breakfasts.” He finished a second bowl with another thick slice of bread, enjoying just sitting close to Maedhros as they both ate.

As it turned out, they finished off the rest of the soup, and as Maedhros gathered the dishes together: "Would you like to come wash up with me? Or you can stay here if you'd prefer." He surveyed the lake. "Our stars are almost coming out, if you're still up to that walk after all I've done to you," he added, blushing.

“What we’ve done to each other,” Fingon corrected softly, grabbing a pile of dishes to help wash. “And I would very much like to walk with you among our stars. Russ?” he asked suddenly. “Do you think there are fallen stars in the hot spring?”

Maedhros frowned. "I'm not sure what causes them, so perhaps, but I wouldn't count on it. But we could certainly go back to the hot spring if you would like. Don't forget your shoes." He offered Fingon an arm as they walked to the cold spring to wash their dishes.

“I must look insane,” Fingon said with a laugh, leaning against Maedhros’ arm. He was dressed in a jeweled white robe, hiking boots, and carrying a plate of dirty dishes. Goodness knows what his hair looked like. “Perhaps we can check after our walk alone the beach and before dessert? If that would please my husband?”

"Well," Maedhros said, motioning to himself, as he was wearing only boots and a long shirt (which really wasn't long enough). "We could walk nude if you preferred--like the first Elves who woke in Cuiviénen. Though I might insist on shoes. And I could brush out and braid your hair if you would like." Kneeling at the spring, Maedhros made quick work of the dishes, handing them off to Fingon to be dried.

“Perhaps we could walk barefoot along the shore, and bring boots for when we leave it?” Fingon countered. “It’s mostly beaches where we’ll be walking along the western shore. And then we wear boots as we continue to the hot springs- perhaps you could do my hair after we take a dip there or in the lake, to avoid making you fix it too often?” Fingon turned a plate in his hand as he dried it. “I would very much like to wander bare with you, as the first Eldar did. Though it worries me.” Maedhros looked up at him and Fingon quickly explained. “You’ve spoken of racing through the forest here, chasing one another and tumbling in the leaves; wrestling with me and taking me amid moss and root and fallen branch. And given that we’d both want that… I worry again at my ability to climb should we give into temptation this evening.”

Maedhros flushed. "Oh I did say that, didn't I? I promise to be a perfect gentleman," he said as they returned to the camp and he began putting things away. "But I leave it to you. I care not what we do, so you may guide me. I'll plan to chase you tomorrow--or the next day." He shrugged. "Or you could chase me," he teased. "You're probably right, though, we could go without shoes. It's mostly grassy." He looked up at Fingon from where he knelt by his pack. "So what shall we do now?"

“Begin to walk?” Fingon suggested. “If it pleases my prince.” He grinned. “As I said, we could walk the beach for quite a ways, and the stars will be out as we are returning. And I would like to show you some of the areas I found last time, that you haven’t yet seen.” He laughed. “Mind you, I my mind was not fully on my surroundings. You had me in a right state that night! That’s one idea, at least. I am open to any other suggestions you might have.”

Maedhros surged to his feet and pulled Fingon into an embrace. "I treated you entirely cruelly the first time we came here, I am sorry," he said. "I would be honored if you would show me these places and begin to form newer, happier memories associated with them." He toed off his boots. "You lead, and I will follow. Only would you like me clothed or not?"

“That wasn’t-- it’s alright, Russ. I was hurt, but… we talked about it. And we made such good memories here.” Fingon shrugged. “And besides, I took a more meandering path down into the valley that time. The western side of the lake… that is where I ran that night.” He walked over to Maedhros, pulling him into a kiss. “You had me so worked up,” he whispered, “and you weren’t even willing to kiss me. I was either going to attack you with kisses and caresses or take a hand to myself if I stayed there any longer, so I ran. And I stayed entirely chaste as I was sure that was what you wanted at the time.” Fingon shrugged. “Even now, with our bond, do you realize just what you do to me?” He sent a memory of that evening-- of lying naked in Maedhros’ arms throughout the afternoon, of every touch becoming a tease as he realized that Maedhros wanted him back. Of the power in the few kisses they shared during the trip. “As for right now… might my husband walk along the shore with me in naught but his skin? And we can grab our robes on our way back to visit the hot spring and see if it glows.” Fingon shrugged out of his robe to stand nude beside his Maedhros with a fond look towards his husband.

"We should," Maedhros smiled, pulling off his shirt, though he still frowned about that day--and the next. "I was so scared," he said abruptly. "Scared of--well, of all the things your father shouted at me when we told him." He looked down, ashamed and almost (all of a sudden) blinking back tears. "I'm sorry I hurt you--in more than one way, at more than one time. You keep saying I am too good to you: well, I only do it to make up to you for the many times I failed you in cowardice. _You_ have never denied your love for _me_ , remember," he pointed out, "not once." He did it on the mountain, and he did it again when Fingolfin challenged him: and always because of outside forces, and only tangentially what he decided was 'best' for Fingon, without bothering to ask _him_. It was despicable, and he would never cease to be ashamed of himself. "I am the undeserving one."

“I never have, and I never will,” Fingon said tone solemn. “But I love you. And, as you told me later, you did not truly mean it. You were scared and trying to be a diplomat.” He shook his head. “It hurt. I don’t want to make excuses for you. But we talked about it. And we got past it. And it’s no longer of any matter, right?” Fingon looked over the water quietly.

“Besides, you were trying to protect me, every time, I like to think, and my relationship with my father. And it wasn’t the same, but… I’ve hurt you trying to protect you as well. I begged you to stop shortly after this trip when we were at the cabin because I didn’t think you really wanted to do what you were about to do. Because I knew you wanted otherwise.” He touched his husband’s arm slightly. “And, as I understand it, you were scared of… of doing things I didn’t really want. You were afraid that I was getting into something I wasn’t prepared to decide I wanted because you were comfortable and safe and I trusted you. So-- so really we were doing the same thing, right?” Fingon tucked himself closer to Maedhros, uncomfortable with their line of discussion. Thinking back to the aftermath of their first kiss still hurt. “You _are_ too good to me. Surely in our few decades together you have done far more for me than I for you,” Fingon said quietly. “Though we don’t really have to keep track, right? I am yours as you are mine, venno. And, as always-- even when I was angry, even when I was hurt-- I love thee.”

It wasn't really the same thing, but it was--or should be--behind them, so Maedhros nodded. Anyway, he could feel Fingon's love for him genuinely, a comforting presence in his mind, and if he focused on that it didn't matter so much that he did not deserve Fingon's love but that he had it, unreservedly, anyway. "I am yours as you are mine, venno," he echoed softly. "And thank you. I love you, too." He kissed Fingon softly and turned toward the lake, letting Fingon lead them where he willed--though no stars would ever be as beautiful as the ones that shone in Fingon's eyes.

Fingon smiled as he felt Maedhros’ love and adoration. Reaching out, he linked his arm through his husband’s relishing the wet sand between his toes, the wind across his bare skin, and Maedhros- beautiful and strong and toned, so close to him that he could feel the heat coming from his husband’s skin, so close that they kept accidentally (or not so accidentally) brushing against one another as they walked. “Tyë-melin,” Fingon murmured. This is beautiful; this is amazing, he thought, leaning his head on Maedhros’ shoulder as they walked.

"Inye tyë-melin," Maedhros replied. The night was perfect: primarily because Fingon was at his side, but also the temperature was mild and the sky was beautiful. As the Tree light receded below the horizon-- "Look, Finno!" He cried. "Our stars."

"They're beautiful," Fingon whispered reverently. "Though not so beautiful as my husband." He grinned as they paused at looked out over the lake. Fingon gave Maedhros a teasing look. "Will you run back with me?" he asked. "Along a shore of fallen stars?"

Maedhros grinned. "Didn't we decide this might be dangerous? Running, I mean. You know when you see a wild animal, you should never run," he teased, pulling Fingon to him and nibbling on the point of his ear. "I might get carried away."

“You’re not the only one who might get carried away,” Fingon admitted. “Very well. In that case, perhaps you should carry me while you run? Or I’m enjoying walking with you.” Fingon strayed into the shallows, splashing at the water and coating their skin with patches of stars.

"Only teasing," Maedhros said. "I do want to watch you run for more than lewd reasons. If you can't manage a jog comfortably now we might wait on the climb tomorrow." He squeezed Fingon's waist and then released him. "You set the pace. And I promise I'll behave myself." He grinned. "Whether _you_ behave yourself is your own affair."

“As my husband says,” Fingon agreed. He leaned up to kiss Maedhros. “Chase me?” he asked softly. Then with a bright smile he smacked Maedhros’ rear and took off, running through the water’s edge and splashing stars into the night air.

"Findekáno!" Maedhros scolded, running after him and rubbing his backside. He trailed Fingon at a distance for some time, watching him move, desire growing as he watched his lithe body slip through the air and splashing through the water. Seeing that Fingon seemed to move easily. "Watch yourself, I'll catch you easily!" he warned, putting on extra speed and gaining.

Laughing loudly, Fingon sped up. Don’t forget, he thought to his cousin, if you catch me, you have to keep me! He was feeling better, and looser as he put on an extra burst of speed. He sensed Maedhros’ glee as he caught up and dodged to one side, running partway up the beach and then back towards the water and trying to breath through an attack of giggling and a rush of desire- his own or Maedhros’ or possibly both.

"Got you!" Maedhros cried, with a burst of speed and a clever feint, and Findekáno was his. They went down in the shallow end, stars splashing everywhere, and Maedhros pinned Fingon with his greater bulk. "I will keep you, gladly," he said, and kissed him sloppily. "Nothing will wrench you from my arms. Now tell me, Finno, are you still as ticklish as you once were?" he asked, squeezing Fingon under his arms.

“Russ!” Fingon shrieked, squirming against him until they both seemed to realize the position they were in, and what Fingon’s frantic motions were doing to them. “Russ,” he said again, but his voice had turned to a moan and his splashing arms moved to wrap around his husband’s back and neck dragging him into a deep, passionate kiss. Maedhros was covered in stars now, and hair and skin were aglow. “I am yours,” Fingon said lowly when they broke apart. “My wonderful husband.”

"I know you are," Maedhros said, and confident in this, he sat up. "Which is why I'm letting you go. We'll fool around later in the hot springs, and you can just imagine what I'll do to you next time you run from me and I catch you." He grinned wickedly and got to his feet, hauling Fingon up.

“You enjoy tormenting me, melindo,” Fingon murmured. “But very well, if we must.” Fingon reached down, slipping past Maedhros’ hand to wrap his own around his husband’s arousal. “Shall we?” he asked, preparing to continue their beach walk.

"Fin, _stop_ that!" Maedhros cried, taking hold of his wrist and flushing. "You'll still be able to climb if I spank you." He wound their fingers together instead and held tight to his hand, walking them along and willing himself not to respond.

“No, I really won’t,” Fingon admitted. “Not if you were to _really_ do so. Because I think if did so right now, I’d keep railing against you until you had me bruised and broken on that beautiful plateau where I couldn’t help but beg for more and move into your hand for the next blow.” He turned his head and kissed Maedhros’ shoulder. “So I suppose I’d best stop, if you don’t think you can resist the urge to redden me.” Fingon pulled back though he kept his hand in his husband’s, and they continued their walk ignoring their mutual desire and arousal.

Maedhros smiled at him sidelong and relaxed the grip on his hand to squeeze him companionably. "You do know my intention is to _not_ be cruel, yes? We can play in the hot springs." He paused. "Would you like to go straight there?"

“We should grab robes and towels and our shoes on the way, but can we not stop for long at camp?” Fingon smiled at Maedhros. “And I know you aren’t cruel. Tyë-melin, Russandol, and I share your feelings. I don’t know how I’ve lived so long without you in my mind… I was so alone, and didn’t even realize it.”

Maedhros smiled, struck to the heart by Fingon's love, and he reciprocated it a thousand times. "We could race back, how about that?" Maedhros asked. "A bit safer than a cha--hey! Wait I didn't say-- _Fin_!" he cried as Fingon sprinted back to camp, and he had no choice but to follow.

Fingon barely stopped as they reached the camp. Breathing hard, he grabbed his robe and folded it into his towel, quickly throwing on his boots as Maedhros barreled into the camp after him. “Have fun?” he asked, flushed and pleased with life.

"You are being a--" he didn't say 'brat,' though he thought it, but said instead "delightful treasure," he laughed, slightly breathless. "All right, hot springs? Then bed? We should get an early start tomorrow." Bending to gather his things, he landed one hard smack on Fingon's bare rump.

Fingon stopped at the smack and moaned. He smirked as Maedhros paused to stare at him. “I _am_ being a delightful treasure,” Fingon said. “And I deserved a handicap for the race.”

"Not anymore!" Maedhros protested. "You're fully of age now, which is why we're finally bonded--and that means no more handicaps. Longer legs are not always an asset in footraces." He slung an arm around Fingon's shoulders. "Now come along before I get it in my mind to smack you again."

“That’s not exactly encouragement to move,” Fingon said, though he began walking with Maedhros. “And that’s not why- though your legs are certainly longer than mine. No, I deserved a head start because you, my Maitimo, have not had an incredibly large and strong Elda pounding into you repeatedly for the past twenty-four hours. Which puts you at a distinct advantage when it comes to all out physical competition.”

Maedhros snorted, practically scandalized at the description (which was, he supposed, a defense mechanism so he wouldn't grow inordinately aroused by it). "Yes, well. Fair." He kissed Fingon's brow. "I'm sure we'll level the playing field here soon enough."

“But not yet,” Fingon agreed. “You’ve certainly kept me well used since we arrived.” He nudged his cousin. “Of course, you’ve kept me well pampered as well. Hot springs! How did we not find them last time?” He shook his head as they arrived at the spring. “Ah… hand our towels and robes on a low branch, do you think?” he asked, searching for a branch that would work as he toed off his boos.

Maedhros frowned. "This rock might do as well," he said, draping his towel over it. "It's still warm." He laid Fingon's robe and towel out beside and turned toward the water. "Look! Oh, Fin, I see a few stars. I think the water is not shallow enough, but, in the pools there, do you see?"

“I see them! Oh, and the water is perfect of course.” Fingon had dipped his toe in first, but quickly slid in the rest of the way. “Mmm. It’s perfect. Steamy water and a few shining stars. Simply beautiful.” But as he spoke the last, Fingon was looking at Maedhros who had stripped down and was about to enter the spring. “Join me?” he asked, holding out his arms.

Maedhros went to him like a magnet, folding him in his arms and kissing him. "Now it is perfect," he corrected, holding Fingon and pressing his fingers into his shoulders, massaging across Fingon's back and neck. "Here, sit on my lap, let me help you relax," he said, pulling Fingon to a shallow and more well-lit corner of the pool. It was also right by the hot spring, and very warm.

Fingon sighed, slumping and resting against his cousin. “Tyë-melin,” he whispered into the steam, gazing up at the stars. “Thank you. Thank you for making our marriage and bonding and after-bonding so special. I would almost fear this was but a dream of perfection… except that I can feel you with me every moment, and when you are near me I cannot know fear, for I am safe and warm and protected.”

"And I," Maedhros answered, kissing the side of Fingon's neck and wrapping his arms around him. "You spoke truth when you said you cannot believe how we ever lived without being bonded to the other." He kissed and nibbled down Fingon's neck and shoulder, and eventually his hands wandered to Fingon's lap, taking him in hand. "May I?" he asked softly.

Fingon nodded, fingers trailing over his husband’s arm as Maedhros began to stroke him. This was gentle and soft and slow. It was the complete opposite of some of their previous joinings, and yet it was just as beautiful, just as incredible. “Tyë-melin,” Fingon whispered, leaning back to rest his head on Maedhros’ shoulder. He turned slightly and kissed his husband’s jaw. Beneath him he could feel Maedhros pressing against him, and he shifted his hips slightly so that his husband was pressed more firmly between their skin. “I like this.”

"Me, too," Maedhros said. "Here, come here," he said, shifting Fingon around until he straddled his lap and they were facing each other. He kissed Fingon softly, unhurriedly as he continued to stroke him, and offered his shoulder as something to lean against. "Will you relax for me, Fin?"

“’m relaxed.” Fingon lay his head on Maedhros’ shoulder, slumping in the warm water. His arms hung loosely around Maedhros, and if not for the desire that still swelled in him, he could almost have fallen asleep where he was.

"Going to take my time with you," Maedhros whispered, and as he continued playing with him almost lazily, his other hand rubbed up and down his spine, and tossed his long hair over both their shoulders and out of the way. "Love you, just love touching you. So beautiful."

“To you, I suppose I am,” Fingon whispered. His eyes slipped half shut. “Slow… slow is good. I like being touched by you, and touching you. Just… let me know when you’re ready for me to do some touching. Until then-“ Fingon invited Maedhros to feel how comfortable he was at the moment. Even his desire seemed sluggish and at ease as he sat bundled in warmth and tended by his husband’s slow movements. “Just promise you won’t let me fall asleep,” he added, raising his head slightly to peer at Maedhros. “I would be ashamed to find myself so well cared for that I could not return the favor.”

Maedhros snorted. "Yes, but I would feel rather smug about it," he teased, but reaching underwater he guided Fingon to close his hand about his sex--as a reminder. He kissed Fingon as he continued stroking him, now adding twists and variation to his movements. "Does that feel good? Because you feel good to me." He laid his other hand softly on the back of Fingon's neck.

“Taking you in my hand and mouth for the first time, years and years ago at your family’s cabin, I thought there could be no better feeling in Arda. But now… this is bliss, vennonya. To have you around me and within me. To feel both my desire and your own…” Fingon kissed his husband’s neck as he closed his hand tighter around Maedhros and began small, languid stroked. “Ask anything of me, and I shall do it for you.”

"Come for me--when you are ready," Maedhros answered immediately. "Show me how happy I can make you, and I will see my life fulfilled." He stroked Fingon quicker and harder.

Fingon moaned, body beginning to tense slightly in need. He did not try to hold himself back; rather he moved into Maedhros’ hand and increased the speed of his own fingers as they moved over Maedhros. His free arm tightened around his husband’s back. “I love thee,” his whispered. And because neither words nor actions could show Maedhros how truly happy he was, Fingon closed his eyes and opened himself to his husband, inviting Maedhros to feel what he felt physically and emotionally.

"Ai, Fin," Maedhros sighed, heart flooding with love--and his body responding in kind (and here he thought he would hold out). "Fin, I love you, tyë-melin, darling Finno. With me, with me," he now begged, for he was close now, very close.

Fingon nodded against him and, liked as they were, they were swept to the edge alongside one another and finished together by an unspoken cue. “Ruusss,” Fingon sighed. When they had finished Fingon shifted his lowered arm up, and hugged his husband tightly. “Tyë-melin tenn’ ambar-meta, Russandol.”

Maedhros shook, and once they were finished he wrapped his entirely too-weak arms around Fingon, holding him close and warm and his. "Tenn' ambar-meta," he echoed, and slid their lips together. "Thank you. I love you," he sighed, and leaned back against the bank and closed his eyes, content to have Fingon in his arms. The stars were not half as beautiful as Fingon felt, hröa and fëa, so he kept his eyes closed.

Fingon was not sure how long they remained like that, but his fingers and feet had a pruned appearance when they moved. “We should-” Fingon broke off and interrupted himself with a yawn, “we should probably get some sleep, since we’re climbing tomorrow.”

"Yes," Maedhros agreed and slid Fingon off his lap. "Wait here, I'll bring you your robe." With that he heaved himself out of the water, steam coming off him, and returned with their things. He held out Fingon's robe invitingly.

Fingon pulled himself from the water with a mournful sigh. Toweling off quickly he stepped to Maedhros and into his robe, relishing Maedhros' hands sliding down his arms as he smoothed the robe over him. "Thank you," Fingon said softly.

Maedhros wrapped Fingon in a hug as he wrapped him in hit blanket, and toweled his hair off. "All warm and dry?" he asked, wringing his own hair out. Fingon looked sleepy, so he pulled him against him. "May I carry you back?"

Fingon nodded. "Sorry," he said with a yawn. "You've completely worn me out. So if you are willing, my tall, strong, handsome cousin." Fingon looked at him, tucking back his husband's hair. "Are you well? I could comb out you hair once we're in bed, if you like?"

"I would love that," Maedhros said, scooping Fingon into his arms and kissing him. "And I could brush your hair. Until then, close your eyes," he said, tucking FIngon's head under his chin. It was not far to camp, and with Fingon close he felt he could walk any distance like this.

Fingon's eyes slipped shut. He opened them again when he was jostled slightly and felt suddenly cool. Blinking he realized his husband was setting him down on their bed. "Russ," he whispered. Thank you. Ah... Hair now?" He sat up stretching his arms over his head and, seeing him watching, gave Maedhros a smile.

"You are just precious," Maedhros said, grinning, and kissed his nose. "Please. If you like. Then I'll do yours, and put you to sleep," he teased. He rummaged for his comb and pressed it into Fingon's hand before settling low in front of him.

Fingon took his time, almost losing himself to the rhythmic motions of his hand as he worked the comb through Maedhros' hair. "Good?" He asked after the tangles had been undone and when he was simply pulling the comb through Maedhros' hair for the feel of it, and for the way the star-spotted strands shimmered as they moved along his cousin's back.

"Yes, good." Maedhros ran a hand through his curls experimentally. "Thank you, love," he said, turning around: "Now switch. Lean against my knees," he said, sitting with back straight and knees bent in front of him. He grabbed a bowl of berries and put them in Fingon's lap. "Eat those now, before you fall asleep," he teased.

“After you do my hair,” Fingon countered. He stole a berry, then relaxed and focused on his husband’s hands in his hair. “That feels good,” he murmured as Maedhros rubbed deep circles into his neck.

"Ah, but what if this puts you to sleep?" Maedhros asked, making a sturdy but comfortable braid that Fingon could sleep in as well as wear climbing tomorrow. "Not too tight?" he asked, pausing to rest his chin on Fingon's shoulder and beg for a berry.

Fingon shook his head. “It’s good.” Holding a berry between two fingers he slid his hand up and into Maedhros’ mouth, placing the berry onto his tongue. “I love your mouth,” he whispered as Maedhros licked at his fingers. “Hot and wet and welcoming.” He slid his hand out and picked up a raspberry for himself.

"Mm, you're making me want to welcome more than your fingers," he said, nibbled on Fingon's shoulder, and retreated to finish his braid. "But we _do_ need to sleep tonight. I suppose it's not a hard climb, but it is long."

“Someday we’ll come back and do a higher climb beyond the northern rim of the valley. It will be splendid.” Fingon reached back to rub along Maedhros’ thigh gently. “You’re a merciless tease, beloved. And I love it.”

"Well, after our climb I won't have any reason to hold back. Yuu might wish I was a merciless tease then." Maedhros grinned and finished off the braid. "All right. Now let's have some of those berries," he said, curling around Fingon and resting his head on his thigh.

Fingon shook his head, unsure what to make of his husband. In many ways he had Maedhros had both grown a great deal since the early days of their engagement. And at other times Maedhros was exactly the same-- still ever focused on owning, possession and controlling. He set the thought aside, and, shifting his robe up to bare his thigh, Fingon began to place a line of berries on it in front of Maedhros’ head. “You first,” he said with a laugh and a smile, petting Maedhros’ hair fondly.

Sensing something bubbling just under the surface, but not wanting to pry (he wanted to pry, but he didn't), Maedhros smiled instead, and gobbled the berries off Fingon's leg, laughing as he did so, and kissing the dark stains away with his tongue.

“Mmm. Love your mouth, Maitimo. And your _tongue_.” Fingon placed another line of berries, this time choosing ones from the edge of the bowl that had a light dusting of brown sugar. The line went slightly higher, as he pulled his robe further up so that it lay wrinkled in the crease of his hip.

Maedhros ate happily, his tongue wandering over Fingon's skin. There were two berries still on Fingon's thigh when he nosed them away, focusing his attentions on the skin beneath, teething and mouthing at his leg. "Mm!" he said excitedly. "I found something even tastier!"

“Russ!” Fingon squirmed, tugging his head back lightly. “I haven’t gotten to eat yet,” he pointed out with a laugh. He motioned Maedhros to strip and roll on his back. Fingon slipped out of his own robe, and nearly salivated at the expanse of skin before him. Carefully, he began placing a long line of berries from Maedhros throat to his navel, and down further still. “Do you think I should eat them quickly, or savor them?” he asked.

Maedhros' breath was coming in quick gasps as Fingon looked down on him. "Ah. Savor them. Please?" He shifted, running his knuckles over Fingon's bare knee.

“I love you.” Fingon grinned, holding up two berries in his hand. “You didn’t quite finish yours. Perhaps we should rectify that, first?” He gently lay the berries on his tongue, closing his mouth and leaning down to kiss Maedhros.

Maedhros groaned into the kiss and the tangy explosion on his tongue, lifting his head enough that some of the berries rolled off his chest. "Sorry! Sorry," he said when he noticed.

“So messy, my husband. Here, I’ll put them back. But don’t let them fall again, alright?” When Maedhros acquiesced Fingon placed all but one back on his chest, collarbone, and chin. “No letting them fall, now.” He reached down and with a wicked grin balanced the last raspberry on Maedhros’ arousal. “I think the color rather matches,” Fingon said after tilting his head in a moment of consideration. “Now… savor, you said? I’ll do my best to go slow arimeldanya.” With that, Fingon leaned down to pluck the first raspberry from his husband’s throat with the barest kiss.

"Mm!" he cried, groaning at Fingon's lips on his throat and also how this predicament left him entirely immobile. He could only barely speak, and only by not moving his mouth. His cock flushed, almost disturbing the berry there, and he shot Fingon a pleading look--but one that was hopelessly aroused.

“Careful, vennonya. Surely you can keep still for a few minutes- after all, you had me posing with marble rammed up inside me for who knows how long.” Fingon grinned and added to more berries from the bowl to cover his husband’s nipples before returning to his task. He gazed at the line across Maedhros’ collarbone, blowing gently across it and watching the skin tighten. “Vanya,” he whispered. The first berry he took with lips alone. The second in the line he used his tongue to scoop up. The third received the same treatment, though he straddled Maedhros to reach it more easily, and blew on the damp skin afterward. “Are you enjoying this, Russandol?”

Maedhros groaned, jerking his head in an almost-nod before remembering he couldn't move: "Mm-hm," he managed. Every inch of his skin was electrified, and he wanted to squirm, but held perfectly still, watching Fingon with eyes clouded by lust.

“Tyë-melin,” Fingon whispered. Then he ducked down and bit Maedhros’ neck, raising a light bruise on his skin. He slid down, careful to avoid brushing Maedhros’ arousal, and he began taking the meandering line of berries down Maedhros’ chest. He paused when he was midway down, and looked at Maedhros in pretend sadness. “Forgive me, arimelda. I’m supposed to savor, yes?” He took a berry from one nipple, lathing it and biting it gently until it pebbled, and continued to trace the skin in a mindless pattern with his tongue. “You were right about one thing- you are far more delicious than the berries, which are, of course, excellent.” He shifted to Maedhros side, contemplating how he should approach the opposite nipple. He gave a quick glance down to see if the berry was still balanced, and then looked up to see his husband, flushed and pupils dilated with desire.

Maedhros whined, chest heaving shallowly. "Fin," he managed without moving his jaw. His fingers twitched nervously, and his eyes were rolling in his head in bliss.

“Russ? Beloved? Do you need something?” Fingon asked. He ducked his head down to begin a spiraling path along Maedhros’ breast.

Fingon continued his slow path, eventually dipping down to a berry placed upside-down in Maedhros' navel. He speared it with his tongue and brought it up, deciding to share this one with his husband. Eyes dancing, he waited for Maedhros' lips to open for a kiss, and then he dropped the berry in without ever touching them. He continued down, quite enjoying himself, and far too soon there was but one berry left. "Still holding on, my perfect love?" he asked softy, raising his eyes from the precariously balanced berry to meet his husband's gaze.

"Mm, Fin," he gasped, the berry sticky on his chin. "Love--you," he murmured, lips tight. He reached his hand out to grab Fingon's leg needily.

“I love you more,” Fingon answered in a lilting voice as he ever had when he was a child. He licked the juice from his hand thoughtfully. “How torturous shall I make this for you, love?” He looked down, head close to Maedhros’ arousal, and suddenly slid a wet finger into his husband’s entrance, ready to take his husband into his mouth along with the berry, before it could fall.

"Ai!" Maedhros squeaked, hips twitching precariously. He whined, huffing through his nose.

“Tell me what you want of me, dearest husband,” Fingon said softly but with a thread of steel in his voice. He slid a second finger in beside the first, which was surely almost too much, too soon, but he delighted in the way Maedhros’ muscles tensed and quivered in response.

Maedhros whined, almost having forgotten about the bond and his ability to speak through it, and it came in a flood this time: Want you, want to be yours, love being yours, fuck, it tingles, it hurts, it feels good, can't move, want to move, don't want to move, bound to you, helpless please stop teasing me don't stop love you love this—

Fingon shifted on his knees, his own need becoming almost unbearable as he was flooded with Maedhros’ desire and with his pleas. “Valar, Maitimo,” he choked. “Ever do you undo me. Ever do you make me yours, even as I make you mine. Tyë-melin, vennonya.” He pulled back, grabbing the jar of oil and wetting his fingers properly. Moments after slamming three fingers into his husband, Fingon plucked the berry from him and swallowed his husband down.

"Findeakno!" Maedhros cried, bucking up in earnest now, the berry tumbling off his chin and into his hair. "Ffffuuuck," he groaned, eyes closing in bliss. "Sorry, sorry," he said. "Won't move, sorry--just--don't stop," he pleaded.

Anything, Fingon thought fiercely. He pressed against Maedhros’ walls until he found the right angle, and hummed as he held Maedhros deep in his throat. Anything, my star, my light, my cousin, my prince. Only finish for me. Let me taste you. Spill for me, my Russandol.

He did--Fingon's command made it so. He spent, crying out and hips snapping as Fingon pressed into him and swallowed him down. "Findekáno!" he cried, and as he fell limp to the bed, "Fin, Fin, Fin," he murmured, exhausted by the ordeal--by not moving--he wasn't sure how. "Fin, hold me," he whined suddenly.

Swallowing roughly, Fingon scooted up Maedhros’ body. He saved the blackberry by his head from a squished fate and ate it quickly, pressing his stained lips to Maedhros jaw and cheeks and nose. He whispered soothing nothings as he rolled them onto their sides and held Maedhros to him. “Shh. It’s alright,” he whispered, and, “you did so well, you are so perfect, my Russandol.” His own desire became secondary to this opportunity to care for Maedhros, and he gladly held him as Maedhros’ breathing slowed and his racing heart calmed.

Maedhros settled as the emotion rippled through him, powerful, making him vulnerable, making him warm in Fingon's arms. "Fin," he said, clutching at him. "Sorry. Sorry I dropped the b-berry. Love you. Thank you."

“I forgot that one entirely,” Fingon admitted, rubbing their noses together. “Here I thought I was being nice, relieving you of the last one before it could fall.” He smiled softly, one hand playing with the free strands of Maedhros’ hair that framed his face. “I love you. And thank _you_. You were… anvanya. You steal my breath away today just as you stole my heart long ago, the first time you smiled at me.”

Maedhros snorted, and looked up at Fingon brightly. "You don't remember the first time I smiled at you," he said. "You were too small." He wound his arms around Fingon more fully, pulling their bodies together. "Oh--Fin--" he said, reaching down to palm at Fingon's arousal. "May I?"

Fingon nodded, shifting to press against Maedhros’ hand. “Of course I don’t remember. But I’m quite certain that is when it happened- a smile from you brightens a day beyond compare, so I am sure that the first time you smiled at me you stole my heart away and won my love forever after.” He relaxed, enjoying the expressions that stole across his cousin’s face.

"You did stop crying," Maedhros admitted, sliding down Fingon's body, "and you started crying again when your mother tried to take you back. You were holding my hair," he said as he guided Fingon's hands to rest on his head. He took Fingon in his mouth lovingly, and gently.

“And you were taken with me as well,” Fingon stated, more than asked. “Before we sleep tonight, will you tell me how I first stole your heart?” Fingon stopped talking after that, holding Maedhros’ head gently and shifting his legs as Maedhros brought him closer to release.

I knew I loved you right away, Maedhros told him across the bond, loathe to take him from his mouth, though he got his hands involved now, too, so he could have. This would take some careful thought to not be boring, for he /had/ loved him forever, but as for when that became decidedly romantic? Unless he meant 30 years ago, when he first-- When Fingon was barely into his twenties and was a proud but precocious child. Maedhros was almost embarrassed by this admission, but Fingon deserved the truth.

Fingon grinned at the first thought, which he received almost as soon Ashe voiced his question. He moaned as Maedhros moved over him and, sensing that his love was thinking, Fingon stayed silent, half lost to the physical sensations as his husband worked him.

I can't--I need you to come for me I can't do two things at once, he begged pathetically. I'll tell you later, Maedhros said, stalling as bits of memory escaped: tiny arms around his neck and soft child's lips and why can't we bathe together anymore, Nelyo? It wasn't a pretty story, probably. Or it wouldn't be to some people. It wouldn't be with any other people. He slipped his mouth off Fingon and used his hands instead, needing to hug him, needing to remind himself he was here, his, full-grown and he didn't need to be ashamed of his love anymore.

Fingon clutched Maedhros tighter as he saw a flash of himself, impossibly small and clinging to Maedhros. Then the image was gone and he was left with Russ, strong and loving and hesitant and worried. Fingon pressed himself closer and he hadn't meant to do this, hadn't intended to make his husband pull back or fear. Sorry, he thought, pressing his lips to Maedhros' neck. I don't know what I did but I'm sorry. Didn't mean to hurt you; never want to hurt you. Didn't mean to make you scared. And Maedhros bring scared worried Fingon and shook him, especially when the fear came in response to gentle teasing and soft touches.

"I'm all right, all right," Maedhros answered aloud, feeling Fingon slacken in his hand. "I only ever fear loving you too much." He tucked Fingon against his neck and poured his love into him as he stroked him, all his love along with his concerns and hangups, trusting him totally to still love him despite what he was being shown--or perhaps because of it, because he truly only feared Fingon' s unhappiness. "Love you," he sighed. "Always love you, not afraid of you, I love you. You are my life and my star, my desire and hope. Everything in me is you, even my fears and my darkness: all of me, good and bad, exists to serve you and I am sorry I am not all good for you, but what I am is yours." He kissed Fingon and twisted his wrist, coaxing him to completion.

"Mine," Fingon whispered. He finished with an almost inaudible sob, arms tightening around Maedhros. "Tyë-melin, tyë-melin." He tried to pour himself into Maedhros, to fill every patch of fear and doubt with his own thoughts of his husband, who was good and pure and bright no matter what he said. "You are perfect for me, Russ. And I wouldn't change you."

"I know you wouldn't," Maedhros said, holding him close. "And I'm not asking you to. Tyë-melin, Findekáno, I'm sorry--I fell in love with you when you were very young," he blurted out, and one he began he couldn't stop, "entirely too young, when you had just begun to mature: we were swimming, and you were naked, and you wanted nothing to do with anyone that was not me, and I loved you--how could I not? I was young, too, barely of age myself, and all my thoughts that might have gone to a wife I gave instead to you. Sometimes I am ashamed of myself—but sometimes I think that if my greatest fault is loving you too early and too fervently, I still will have done well." He kissed Fingon's brow, holding him tightly, comforted by his love and presence.

"Sometimes I think I was very lucky to be the younger of us," Fingon stated quietly. "I'm so sorry to have caused you pain and worry. I told you before that I- I never wanted anyone but you. You are the first Elda I had thoughts of desire towards, and yes, I was young at the time, but you were older, so I was not forced to endure the thoughts which troubled you. I was only worried that you could never want me in return- not the way I wanted you- and that even if you did desire me I would not be worthy. How could I be when I was just me and you were... you." I'm sorry, he thought, that you felt such anguish while I was a child, and never had to endure such. Fingon relaxed in his husband's embrace. "I really am sorry- I did not mean to start a heavy topic. I only meant to tease and kiss and fall asleep in your arms."

Maedhros shook his head, squeezing him close: "You deserve to know this, to know how long I have loved you--and it is as a burden lifted from my shoulders, for I could never dare tell another soul what I told you now. Never worry, Findekáno, that I do not love you above my own life, and I always have. And do not fret yourself over what I endured. 'Endure' is the wrong sense of it. I loved you, I ached for you, in all ways imaginable--but this is the sweetest torture. Remember that you are, now, then, the culmination of my every hope and dream. I loved you unrequited for thirty years of the trees, Findekáno: and now I have a lifetime with you. It is a price I would pay again, gladly." He kissed Fingon, rubbing his back, and reaching behind him he pulled a blanket up over them both.

"Never unrequited," Fingon swore. "Perhaps you realized before I did, perhaps your body desired things before mine, but since before I can remember as you so charmingly put it, I have been yours." Fingon smiled as they curled up together under the blanket and beneath the stars. "Tired?" he asked, settling into the bedding. "Tomorrow should be a long day. Wonderful though."

Maedhros smiled, comforted by Fingon's words (near comforted to tears, and he shared this joy with Fingon), and concluded with: Every tomorrow will be wonderful. Tenn' ambar-metta, Findekáno," he said, and kissed him, and closed his eyes.

"I love thee," Fingon whispered, watching Maedhros drift off. "Tenn' ambar-metta, and beyond time, I love thee." His own eyelids were growing heavier and with a last glance at the starlit sky he let sleep take him also.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are off on a new adventure as they ascend to a peak on one side of their valley, preparing to spend a night close to the stars.

Maedhros woke first, and for a long time as the sky was barely lightening, he was content just to watch Fingon, his treasure, his light, curled up in his arms softly breathing. Tears rolled down his cheeks at the beauty of it, and at the knowledge that every day would begin like this. When the sky was actually light and he knew they had to awaken, he kissed Fingon awake, tasting his lips and kissing over each eyelid. "Awake, my love," he called, "awake, Findekáno, vennonya."

"Russ?" Fingon said and thought as he was drawn from sleep. He smiled chasing Maedhros' lips with his own even before he opened his eyes. "Vennonya." He grinned, feeling perfectly rested after his first full night's sleep with his bonded. He shared his pleasure and happiness with his husband as he blinked up at him. "Mara tuilë, my Russandol. Did you sleep well?"

"I had you in my arms. What do you think?" Maedhros asked, kissing him again and squeezing him tightly. "Here, stay here. I will bring you tea, and breakfast." He got up, tucking the blanket around Fingon.

"One of these days I'll wake first and wait on you hand and foot while you relax," Fingon promised. He snuggled into the warm spot Maedhros had left. "That sounds lovely, though."

Maedhros smiled. " _That_ sounds lovely," he returned. "Especially if you were unclothed." He boiled water and steeped tea, and returned with hearty breakfast cakes and berries. "I know you don't like these much, but we'll need our strength for the climb."

"It's alright. They're your cooking do they won't be _too_ bad." Fingon smiled. "And I definitely enjoyed the view while you were cooking."

Maedhros smiled, curling around Fingon as he ate his breakfast. "Should we strike camp? Or are we just going for a day trip?" he asked once he had washed down the dry but hearty bread with a mouthful of tea.

"We could leave a few things here, but perhaps we could spend the night somewhere near the top, close to the stars." Fingon leaned against his cousin. "Would that please you?"

"That would make me very happy," Maedhros answered, beaming. "We should pack everything up, then. It shouldn't be hard. And we can take water, and some firewood. Just enough for the night." He was hoping Fingon would say something like this, and was now even more excited to reach the top. It was his favorite place.

"That sounds good. We can leave some of the bags from the pack horse... We probably don't need our own towels or more than a change of clothes." Fingon grinned. "Can you wait to see our valley from above?" He bounced lightly, finishing his tea. "I'm ready to go already. A perfect plan, a perfect day, and perfect company!"

"I can't, I cant wait," Maedhros said, grinning broadly as he dressed and packed their things hurriedly. He gathered fuel for a fire, "And we should go for more water, too," he said as he strapped the bedroll to his pack.

"Then let's leave the packed packs here while we go to the spring, and we can grab then on the way back." Fingon grabbed the oil and slipped it into a pack as he helped break camp. "The spring?" He asked brightly, grabbing the waterskins.

"Agreed," Maedhros said, grabbing the last one and following Fingon. "Save your strength," he said as Fingon skipped ahead, though he found himself hurrying, too.

"I know, I know," Fingon said. But he was laughing. "Come on, Russ!" He slowed long enough to grab Maedhros' hand in his own as he led them to the stream, eager to get turned around and start their hike to the summit.

They filled the waterskins quickly and returned to camp. Maedhros tightened their packs--light, but unwieldy, as they carried the bedding with them--and put a cover over what they left behind. He looped a waterskin within easy reach of both of them and began the hike up to the base of the mountain. "I don't remember being quite so burdened last time," he said with a grin.

"And we only went to the ridge last time," Fingon added with a smile. "Besides, I had to convince you to stay the night out here. You wanted to go back to put the Ambarussa to sleep, remember?" He nudged Maedhros' lightly, their packs bouncing off one another. "I hope I don't have to fight to keep you around this time," he teased.

"Not at all!" Maedhros grumbled, checking Fingon as they walked along. "You'll have to fight me to keep me off of you, this time," he added with a wink.

Fingon grinned at him, then changed to a neutral, mock-serious expression. “No-- no I don’t think I will,” he murmured thoughtfully. “And do you know why?”

Maedhros grinned suspiciously. "No?"

“Really? You can’t think of why?” Fingon asked with a smile, mischievous. “You can’t think of anything worth staying off me this evening?”

Maedhros flushed. "Well, I suppose if you _want_ me on you..." he bit his lip as he grinned.

“I always want you, darling. That’s not what I’m asking.” Fingon reached over to play with a stray piece of his cousin’s hair. “But I was thinking… if you’re very, very good melindo, we might try something different this evening.”

"O-ohh?" Maedhros looked at Fingon now, trying to read him. "Different how?" he asked, though he had his suspicions...

“Oh, I don’t know,” Fingon murmured. “I can think of plenty of things. You _inspire_ me, dear. There may have been a specific thing or two I had in mind, though.”

 

Maedhros huffed, already aroused by Fingon's mystery, and also very much by his-- "What did _you_ have in mind, then?" A rush of excitement thrilled through Maedhros as he poked at Fingon's mind, all but begging.

“You’re being good, Russandol-- asking instead of just looking.” Fingon slipped in front of him to lean in for a kiss. “Thank you.” He smirked. “And trust me, you’ll be rewarded. I was thinking, perhaps, if you wanted, we might try something new. We’ll be on top of the world, Russ and close to the stars… both well exercised but well rested from last night. Will you let me pleasure you, husband? Would you lie back and let me try to please you?” He continued their verbal dance, still teasing and not yet telling though he was certain Russ could read him well even without searching through their bond.

Maedhros' stomach flip-flopped at Fingon's praise, and he was sure he grinned foolishly. "I--mm--uh-huh," he nodded. "You mean to--have me?" he asked shyly, his heart yearning for it.

“Have you? Hmm. I suppose so. I would like to have you melt Russ. I’ll give you slow kisses and tender touches. Perhaps massage your back and arms and legs to work out the knots of a hard day of hiking. Would you like that?” He could feel Maedhros enthusiasm as well as his hope for more. “Then I might spread your legs and lick you open. Will you lie nice and still for me and perhaps hold your legs up out of the way while I put my tongue inside you?”

Maedhros coughed. "Lie still? While you do _that_? Probably not," he admitted. He shifted his trousers as he continued walking.

“That’s too bad,” Fingon said sadly, keeping his eyes focused ahead of them as he hid a smile. “You see, I thought with the massage, and then working you gently with my tongue, I could get you nice and relaxed. Do you remember the first time I told you I wanted to be inside of your hröa?”

Maedhros slipped his hands around the straps on his pack, and held them in a white-knuckle grip. "Yes. I remember. I wasn't--I didn't think--I was--narrow-minded. I've since changed my opinion on the subject."

Fingon stopped walking. He reached out and tugged on one of the straps of Maedhros’ pack, spinning his cousin to face him. “Not what I meant Russ,” he said gently, hand moving up the strap to rub along Maedhros’ clenched hand. “I seem to recall you finishing untouched just from the picture I painted. That picture is what I meant.” He maneuvered to wrap his free hand around Maedhros’ neck, biting his lip gently. “I told you I wanted it to be here, remember?” he asked with a soft kiss. “And I told you I wanted to open you with my tongue and fingers. And do you remember what else I said? I told you that however rough you were with me the night of our bonding-- and we got quite rough, beloved-- that is how gentle I would be with you. However fast and hard you took me, that’s how slowly I’d sink into your heat. I’ll let you feel every inch of me, Russ. And we’ll let the feelings simmer as long as we can stand. And eventually I want to see you come undone around me, remember?”

He kissed Maedhros quickly, grabbed his hand, and began walking again. “I guess I promised myself into a bit of a corner with that,” he said lightheartedly, as though they spoke of the latest tree climbing game the Ambarussa had come up with and not something both Eldar desperately wanted. “If you don’t think my best efforts can get you relaxed tonight, I suppose we’ll have to wait and perhaps try some other time.” He shrugged, as though it mattered not, sneaking a glance over at his husband.

Maedhros swallowed, breathless and flushed, in his face and below his belt. "I--no, no, we should try tonight," he said. "I mean--if you like." He didn't want to tell Fingon what to do.

“Try-- definitely.” Fingon smiled in part from their discussion but more because Maedhros’ knuckles were no longer white and the bond was no longer filling him with guilt and hurt courtesy of his husband. “But… like I said, I promised. And I wouldn’t want to break my word.” He shrugged. “We could give it a try, and if you get tense, I’ll just roll over and you can have at me. We have a few days left to find the right time… unless you’d be more comfortable if we waited until we were at the cabin? Or perhaps you want to wait to be in our own bed at our own house?” Fingon certainly hoped not.

Maedhros' breath hitched "I don't--I won't--I'll be--" he swallowed hard, "good."

“That’s good.” Fingon said and stole another kiss as they continued to move up the side of the valley. “I yearn to be within your hröa, husband. I could feel some things from you while you were within me, but… do you have any idea how much I ache to join with you in this way?”

Maedhros nodded, and found the courage to meet Fingon's eyes. "I--I do have a vague idea," he said. "As long as I waited." His smile was shy and sincere now.

“Tyë-melin.” Fingon grasped Maedhros’ hand in his own and continued holding it until they passed the tree line. “What do we do?” he asked. “Do we look back, or wait until we’re a little higher to look out over the valley?”

"I don't want to look back until we reach the top. For myself. The view is most beautiful from the top." Maedhros clung to Fingon when he tried to pull away--and let him go--but Fingon took his hand again and they continued up the slope. "It's only, I like holding your hand, and we'll not be able to hold hands while we climb."

“Then we’ll focus on our bond, when we can’t hold hands,” Fingon said, giving the hand in his own a squeeze. “And we shall remain unparted-- closer, in some ways, that when we used to adventure together.” He raised their arms momentarily and kissed the back of Maedhros’ hand.

Maedhros smiled almost giddily (his face already hurt from smiling more in the past two days than he had in a year). "You're right. Of course you are." And he returned the kiss to Fingon's hand, and it wasn't long before they had to use their hands to climb.

It was bright out and somewhat windy as they reached the top of another steep incline and found themselves on a gentler sloping plane. Fingon grabbed his cousin's hand again. "Snack break?" he suggested. Even if they did not want a full lunch they had apples and berries and a little dried meat and cheese with them.

Maedhros wanted to get to the top, but he supposed they would have to pause to make it a climb with all they were carrying. "All right," he said, pulling the fruit from the top of his pack and handing it to Fingon. He remained standing, his feet shuffling.

Fingon laughed, and gasped as he saw the valley over Maedhros' shoulder. "It's gorgeous, Russ. Spectacular," he said in awe. Fingon shook himself. "Break, Russ. Want me to help you get your pack off? We should take a few minutes ease. Especially if we want our strength for tonight." And how often had Maedhros used similar reasoning with him when he was younger. He chuckled, thinking of Russ convincing him to stop eating or to take a break during training with promises of later rewards.

With a sigh Maedhros slid his bag from his shoulders and flopped down next to Fingon. He was right, of course. The view was beautiful, and he should save his strength, especially if--if Fingon was going to--

I'm excited, he told Fingon across the bond: and nervous. "It will be perfect up there," he said aloud. He was trembling faintly where he rested his hand on Fingon's knee and smiled shyly.

Fingon put his hand over Maedhros' and linked their fingers together. "It will," he agreed. I want this so much, he thought. I want you to enjoy this, to love this... And I'm scared Russ. Because this has to be right. And because I want to still find new things to do together. Ever do I desire to grow closer to you. I don't want this to be the _final_ step, just another one... "Forgive me," he said quietly. "In afraid my thoughts aren't making much sense at the moment." He rested his head on Maedhros' shoulder and enjoyed the view as they finished eating and drinking. "Should we get going?" he asked eventually, though he was enjoying their break on a comfortable flat area with several boulders perfect for seats and natural tables, and a remarkable view up the mountain and across the valley.

"You're making perfect sense," Maedhros assured him, resting his head on top of Fingon's, And you'll be fine, he said, I trust you wholly, I know I will enjoy this. "I am ready to go whenever you are, but likewise I could sit here forever if you should wish it," he whispered.

Fingon squeezed his hand unable to put into words how much he lived the Elda beside him. "We should get going," He admitted. "Perhaps on the way down we can stop here for a little while. I'd love to get out a sketchbook and draw a few pictures of the valley from higher up. Besides, it provides a better view of some of the streams for your maps."

Maedhros looked out at the view again, caught off-guard by the other purpose for their coming here. "Oh. Yes. Yes, you're right." And then, turning back to the cliff face before them, "Let's go." But Maedhros pulled Fingon into a desperate kiss before he could go on, and took a moment to chart his way up visually before beginning his ascent.

Fingon smiled, desire rising at the teasing kiss. He noted their rest area, looking back to make sure he could recognize it from above. Along with a beautiful view it would be good to have breaks (with sketching as a legitimate excuse) if his husband was sore in the morning. They chose a general route and began their hike to the higher reaches near the peak.

"Be careful going that way!" Maedhros suddenly cried out at where Fingon was heading. "That was where--where the rockslide--" he stammered: "Stay by me?" he pleaded.

Fingon waited for a minute as Maedhros caught up. "Didn't mean to worry you. And I promise to watch out for rock slides this time. Now come on! Up the ridge and to towards the peak!" He grinned at Maedhros. "I'm already looking forward to getting camp set up and having dinner, aren't you?" He paused then added, "I'm rather looking forward to dessert as well." You're dessert, by the way, he pointed out unnecessarily through their bond. Though we have real dessert too, of course.

Maedhros very nearly lost his footing, and as it was he skidded, and his face flushed as much from embarrassment that he had almost fallen as at Fingon's words. "Sorry. Um. Me too," he offered, unsure if he was allowed to say that: was it considered dessert for him if he was the dessert? That line of thought didn't make any sense, so, "I'm looking forward to it, too," he confessed.

Laughing, Fingon grabbed his hand and kissed it as they continued forward. "Tyë-melin, Russ. Never change." A hint of red remained on Maedhros' cheeks, and Fingon stole glances at him, loving to look at him and tempted to call for a break just so they could relieve themselves of their packs and kiss. "And I'm... I'm so glad you are. At the cabin, or at our house, we should spend a day feasting on each other. Can you imagine it now? You could take me, and immediately after I could roll us and spend myself within you. Back and forth we could just keep going, sharing every pleasure, every activity..."

"Yes," Maedhros mused, "yes!" He liked this idea the more he thought about it, and almost slipped again. "Although, I think--could we maybe--we should talk about something less distracting." He looked at Fingon far ahead of him. "You must be patient with my apparently prudish nature. I'm probably spending too much time with our Vanyar kindred," he teased.

"I'm a grandchild of Finwë," Fingon said. "And he would be so proud of me." He giggled at his cousin's expression. "And you're not a prude, just... Controlled? Or something. Certainly our sex life gets quite interesting whenever you let go a little." He waited at a flat area for Maedhros to catch up and began walking next to him. After several minutes he reached back and snuck a grope of his husband's firm and all too delectable rear- generously sharing these thoughts as he did so.

"Finno!" Maedhros yelped, skipping forward a few paces, his face flushing a new red. "Sorry," he said, rubbing his backside. "I should--let go more. I just, we spent so long hiding, so long being discreet--it will take me some time to unlearn."

"I love you either way, beloved. You let go with me- you trust me. And that means… that means so much Russ. Please don't think I don't appreciate what you give me." Fingon grabbed his arm, dragging Maedhros' hand from his rear and grasping it. "I love you, and I love this. And you make it so special every time you let go with me. Every time you make me yours or yield to me completely."

Maedhros smiled, comforted instantly and completely. "Still--you deserve more," he said, "and this will ever be my yearning: to give you more than I have already given you, for I could never give you all you deserve." He pulled Fingon to him and kissed him, and looked up. "Finno, there's our ridge! Where we--that night before we first--when you named our mountains, and before we first kissed. May we go up there, please?"

Fingon grinned. "Please. Please, Russ. Together." He touched his husband's cheek fondly. "I don't deserve you, arimeldanya. But you wanted me anyway. And so you are mine now as I am yours, and I will never let you go. Come on- I want to get there and find a place to set up camp." If he recalled correctly, there was a rocky area closer to there, and they could potentially have walls on three sides of them protecting them from most of the wind while still allowing a clear view of their valley.

"Not the top-top?" Maedhros asked, pouting slightly, though he admitted it was probably not the safest location to engage in, ah, more rigorous activities. "Well, you're right. We'll see what we can find." As they made their way to the cliff face where they would be straight face climbing for a while (near were the rockslide had been), Maedhros stopped Fingon, grasping both of his shoulders. "Do not say that ever again. That you don't deserve me. If it's a political statement I don't care to hear it, and if it's a moral one it's inherently false. Deserving has very little to do with anything: all that matters is we have chosen each other. Deserving puts one of us above the other--is this the equality you speak of?"

“I’m sorry.” Fingon looked away. Maedhros was right, of course. Still a part of him deep down remained uncertain that he could be worthy of his husband. It had nothing to do with name or blood and everything to do with who Maedhros was, with his fëa and his true self. He leaned into Maedhros, sliding his arms around his husband’s waist. “I’ll try-- I’m sorry. You’re right, of course. And your words make sense. It is only in the depths of my heart that I wonder how you find me worthy when you are… the best person I’ve ever known.” He snuggled close for a minute before pulling away. “And if you wish, we shall go to the very top-- only, in case it gets too windy at night perhaps we can scout out the area I’m thinking of as a relocation spot. Would that please you?”

Maedhros nodded. "That sounds wise. The very top would be the most--romantic," he blushed, "but also impractical I suppose." He tightened his back and Fingon's before they began their climb.

Fingon began the straight climb first, but he kept having to look over his shoulder at the valley. He laughed at Maedhros’ protests as he made his way up a chimney for the first part of the climb, and then when it grew too tight, moved around to the main part of the rockface.

"Be! Careful!" Maedhros barked. "That's all I need is for you to fall or get caught in a rock slide on our honeymoon. Note that I did _not_ wait nine years for you to get yourself killed in two days!" He thought on this as he climbed, close behind him. "If you return from Mandos as a child, I'll be most upset, and we'll have to go through the whole cycle again." He spoke of death as an irritation, for the only one to never return was his grandmother--for reasons he never really understood.

“I know, I know. I’m always careful, Russ.” Fingon looked down at him. “And I wouldn’t dare wander off to Mandos.” He grinned. “You’d probably follow me down there and yell at me until we were back in our hroar and able to complete our honeymoon. And _you_ be careful. Come on-- we’re almost to a ledge.”

"I would," Maedhros agreed, grinning, as he followed Fingon up.

Fingon dropped his pack as soon as he reattached the break point, a ledge almost five feet wide. He reached out a hand to help pull up his husband and divest him of his pack. "How close do you think we are?" he asked with a smile. "I can almost taste it, we're so near… just a little further!"

"Not close enough," Maedhros said giddily, getting food and water free and passing them to Fingon. "We should hurry." His excitement was obvious.

“In a rush for some reason?” Fingon asked as Maedhros finished with the packs. “Is there something I should know about?” He carefully pivoted so that, rather than sitting next to Maedhros, he straddled his husband’s legs. Smiling and taking a bite the jerky he was holding, Fingon bounced lightly, looking years younger than he was.

Maedhros grinned. "Yes, because of your ceaseless teasing," he grumbled without much force. He wrapped his arms around Fingon and tugged the jerky from Fingon's mouth.

“Thief!” Fingon accused. He chased the jerky with lips and tongue, quickly becoming more interested in tasting his husband’s mouth than with reclaiming his lost snack. He shifted into this kiss and broke off with a gasp as they brush against one another through their trousers. “Russ,” he groaned. “Vennonya.”

"Fin, please," he gasped, grabbing his hips and pushing him back. "We'll never get up the mountain."

“My Russ,” Fingon whispered. His hips ground against open air for a moment and he closed his eyes. “You- I can’t even… I know, I know.” He leaned in for one more quick kiss, and then slid back to his seat against the way, hand drifting across his cousin’s arousal as he did so. “Food. Then we can finish this climb and set up camp.” The air was fairly still, and even as high as they were it was comfortably warm out; camp should be easy to set up and pleasant to stay at. Not that he was opposed to huddling in the bedding with Maedhros.

Maedhros gasped at Fingon's touch, and ate little, too busy starting at Fingon and thinking of the night to come--and the view! "Fingon, do you think the view will still need the same?"

“Even better,” he said. “Or just as good. And we’ll see shadows steal across the valley-- and the lake! We’ll be able to see the entire lake glow with its stars!” Fingon took a long drink and stood with a sigh, stretching and grabbing his pack. “Ready for the last bit?” he asked, plotting their course. The climb wasn’t perfectly vertical, but it was steep enough to merit extra care and the careful placement of one’s feet.

Maedhros followed Fingon up, keeping close, to keep him safe but also merely to be close--and also because he wanted to be at the top /so much/. This was going to be beautiful: it was going to be everything. This was where it all started, mainly, and Maedhros so loved being up high, with all of Aman to see below him. And to share it with Fingon was—

His hand slipped as he rushed, grabbing a sloppy hold. "Sorry, I'm all right," he said immediately, taking a deep breath and slowing himself. "Excited," he admitted sheepishly.

“You know how you said you would follow me straight to Mandos if I went there? That works both ways, you know.” Fingon glanced back before reaching for his next handhold. “We’re close, Russ. Just to the top of this and then a short walk and we’re _there_.” He climbed faster, sensing Maedhros’ need and trying to control his own. They needed this. They were ready for this. And he wanted this additional union to take place at this spot- as sacred to them as the campsite by the lake where Maedhros had promised to wed him.

With soft grunting, pebbles tumbling, and harsh breathing, they made it to the top. The rest they could almost walk up, until they were at the flat-ish part that marked the top of their peak. It was smaller than Maedhros remembered, but it was perfect, and when he turned around, still breathing heavily: "Oh, Fin!" he cried, and could speak no more for the beauty of the land unfolding below them seemingly forever.

Fingon slid to his knees and relieved himself of his pack, watching Maedhros rather than the view. The place _was_ special for them, and he tried to memorize his husband in this moment- every expression, every hair the breeze blew, every play of light across him. Because he wanted the entire hike and the peak to be filled with positive memories, enough to erase the few horrible ones that were from this area as well. He focused on the first time they had looked down into the valley, and on Maedhros’ pleasure this day, and he realized he would give anything and everything to keep Maedhros’ smiling like he was in this moment, lost to the beauty before him.

"Finno--" but then Maedhros turned to Fingon, and he was a thousand times more beautiful than the view ever could be, and took him in his arms and kissed him, the wind playing at their hair and blowing cool over their skin. Time seemed to stand still on this peak, where the light of the trees cast warmth and beautiful shadows on the land around them, and the air was bright and clear, and Fingon's lips were perfect, his whole everything was perfect, and Maedhros didn't want to let him go.

You never have to, Fingon responded immediately, arms tightening around Maedhros. “I am yours,” he whispered aloud and kissed his husband, “as you are mine.” They stayed like that, rocking lightly, for a time. Fingon pulled back slightly, feeling guilty that he was doing so first. “You never have to, though I think it will be difficult to set up camp while we’re locked together. Shall split up for a few minutes to set up?” And besides, he added silently, I’ll still be bound tightly to your fëa, and you to mine. We never have to let go of this bond, this embrace.

Maedhros grinned, fingers tracing over Fingon. "Yes. Yes, you're right. I can hold--we can hold each other later." He set to work quickly, unfolding their bed and setting out foodstuffs behind a rock for shelter, where he also set the firewood. He drank some water and gave some to Fingon as well. They would need all the blankets they brought. "All right?" He looked around. "Where do we go if the wind gets too bad?" If I can even walk, he didn't add.

“Here, down this way.” Fingon grabbed his hand and led him down part of the last, hiked, part of the ascent and around the side of it several vertical yards down. A natural cleft in the rock formed three ‘walls’ and the concave curve of the back wall provided a partial ceiling. If the weather turned poor, it would be the perfect retreat. “But for now… dinner, do you think?”

"Yes, this looks good," Maedhros said, clinging to Fingon, but shrugged at the suggestion of dinner. "I'm not hungry. Oh, but, I mean--" he started, "yes, I can make--I was thinking we could roast potatoes."

“We didn’t really have lunch, is all. And I thought it would be best to eat while it’s light. But if you don’t want to… I’m not trying to order you about. It was just an idea.” Fingon looked at him helplessly. “Potatoes sound wonderful. Whenever you’d like to do them. And when we get back I’ll finish setting up the bedding and pillows.” They began the return journey to the top of the peak, bare except for a few boulders and rock formations.

Maedhros shook his head, brightening and kissing Fingon. "I'm sorry. I'm not really hungry--but of course you must be. I'm sure my appetite will return--just--nerves, maybe," he smiled shyly.

 

“Russ-” Fingon broke off, trying to find the right words. “I won’t hurt you. I swear. And if you change your mind, if you want to stop, just think that and we’ll do something else, or nothing else- whatever you wish. You went first, and I have a better idea of how this goes as a result. So you have nothing to fear.”

Maedhros shook his head wildly, snatching at Fingon's hands. "No, Fin, no. I want it _now_ ," he said. "I can't _think_ , I want it so bad. Please don't misunderstand me: I'm excited more than nervous." He looked down at Fingon's hands. "I want to be yours. Here."

“You are mine,” he said in a strangled voice. “We are bonded and you are mine.” Maedhros’ need wound through Fingon and he bit his lip, holding Maedhros’ hands tightly. “Tyë melin,” he whispered. “We have forever, my Russandol.” He kissed one hand and then the other and released them. “We need to finish setting things up before dark. And if we eat first we can lie in bed all night. Wouldn’t that please you? In any case, I won’t do what you’re thinking until we’re in bed with plenty of oil. Not for your first time. Not-- I won’t hurt you.” He looked to Maedhros for his decision.

"I know you won't," Maedhros gulped, feeling guilty and underserving and maybe a little disappointed but entirely overwhelmed by happiness and gratitude. He felt light, like he might float away. "And you're right. I'll get started on dinner?"

“Then I’ll finish preparing our bed,” Fingon said with a nod. A thrill raced through him with those words. He moved around, beyond where Maedhros was preparing the fire, and finished setting out the sheets and blankets. He left the towel and packs nearby in case they needed an extra layer of clothing, and pulled a small leather pouch from his pack. Silently, he plucked the petals from several carefully chosen flowers and scattered them across the bedding. The oil went next to the bed, and finally he turned to help Maedhros with their food.

Distracted occasionally by the view, luckily there wasn't much to do but get a fire going and let the potatoes cook. They had cheese and butter and some bacon left, and some herbs and young onions (well, for him) to eat them with. "Are you sure you don't want onions? To protect yourself from my breath?" Maedhros teased, though he did set some mint aside to chew on for later. "Now we wait. Will you watch the light fade with me?" he asked, opening his arms to Fingon and turning toward the light.

“I will, my prince,” Fingon murmured. He slipped into Maedhros arms, and kissed him, and held him close. But where Maedhros looked toward the Trees, Fingon found himself watching the valley as darkness crept over the edges. Each hill and rise in the land seemed to fight against the coming darkness but the light lost ground bit by bit until all that was left were sundered starlit patches and deeply shadowed forests. He wondered why he would see this as a fight, and why darkness should make him fear. He was raised in Aman, and all darkness meant was a time when stars shone clearer and the land was bathed in blue-white rather than silver and gold. He tightened his hold on his husband as he shivered.

Sensing that something was wrong, Maedhros squeezed Fingon impossibly close. It never occurred to him that his cousin might be nervous, too--though the battle he imagined and which Maedhros glimpsed through him was interesting. "Fear nothing, my love. Day shall come again." He kissed Fingon's brow and poked at the fire. "Our potatoes are done."

“And guess what? One of the skins I brought is filled with wine.” Fingon laughed as he dropped to the ground near the fire, pulling out a plate for the potatoes. “The dinner of intrepid explorers!”

"Indeed, a feast of champions," Maedhros answered, unwrapping their potatoes and hissing from the heat. He prepared Fingon's with extra everything except onions while Fingon poured the wine.

It was cooling off and Fingon aye quickly, enjoying the warmth and nearly burning his tongue as a result. "This is excellent-- you really are the best," he praised, pausing to take a sip of wine. "Hungry yet?"

The first bite saw Maedhros's appetite returning, and he nodded, his mouth full. "Yes thanks. And it's only butter and salt. The potato is doing the work," he laughed, and scooted closer to Fingon.  The wine helped him relax.

Fingon shrugged and leaned against his cousin, still feeling grateful. "Thank you nonetheless. Do you like the wine?"

"I do. It tastes very fine. Not like the stuff Tyelko drinks," he grinned, wrapping an arm around Fingon and providing his chest as something for him to lean back against. "We should drink plenty of water, also, for we climbed hard today."

"Agreed," Fingon whispered. "Just a moment," he said, standing. He leaned in the give Maedhros a kiss. "I'll be right back." Fingon grabbed a full waterskin and a blanket before returning. He draped the latter around his husband's shoulders before resuming his seat leaning back against Maedhros' chest. "This is comfortable." He pulled his cousin's arm around his waist, snuggling against him.

"Indeed it is," he agreed, though his heart was hammering in his chest. He wasn't nervous about the act, he decided, but he was very nervous about not being in control, and not knowing when it would come. He squeezed Fingon a fraction too tight. He guzzled down the rest of his wine before going for the water, leaving his potato unfinished.

Focusing on sending reassurances and trying not to get nervous as a result of his husband's nerves, Fingon stole a bite of Maedhros' leftover potato without thinking and blanched. "Onions!" He choked, chugging wine with an internal mantra of I hate onions, I _hate_ onions! "Oh, Valar, that was disgusting!" He muttered as he stopped to breathe and switched to water.

It did the trick because Maedhros laughed out loud. "I suppose they don't taste quite so awful on my tongue?" Maedhros pressed, pinning Fingon and stealing a kiss.

Sputtering, Fingon pushed at his shoulders. "Bleh! I just got rid of that taste!" He leaned up and, smiling, kissed the tip of Maedhros' nose and then his cheeks, but he avoided his lips. "If the only option was to kiss your onion taste infested mouth, of course I would. And I would count it a blessing. But when you have breath leaves an arms length away, and plenty if wine and jerky to remove the flavor... I really must protest, vennonya."

Maedhros laughed, flopping back and reaching for his mint leaves and chewing them, and he hauled Fingon with him, pulling him on top. He kissed him with the mint in his mouth, eyes sparkling. "Better?" he asked.

"Wonderful," Fingon answered. He cupped Maedhros' face, brushing his cheeks softly with his thumbs. "I love thee. Always and forever, with all that I am and all that I will be, I love thee."

"I love thee," Maedhros answered, his hands wandering over Fingon's body and pulling him close. Fingon's body was warm on top of him, grounding him against the bed and the hard earth beneath. Thank you, he whispered inside. I'm safe with you.

Always. Fingon kissed his cousin and held him tightly. Then he sat back, straddling his husband and looking at him. Maedhros still had a few fallen stars caught in his hair, and he glowed against the darkened bedding. The strands of his hair that had come undone fanned out around him, surrounded by petals and sheets. "Ever shall I cherish you and value you above myself. Your hröa I will see as a precious and treasured thing. I live for you as much as for myself and will never work to harm you. I am yours, hröa and fëa," Fingon whispered. "And you are mine ten' ambar-metta. No force shall ever sunder us forever; where you lead I shall follow and I will always find you." Fingon spoke softly, reworking their bonding vows as he ran gentle hands along his cousin's sides barely touching him. I love thee, he thought, and the thought was brilliant and shining and warm as Maedhros' skin whenever Fingon awoke in his arms.

Maedhros' eyes brimmed with unshed tears at the restating of their vows, and he smiled, overwhelmed by the brilliance of Findekáno's love. "I am yours as you are mine," he managed, swallowing hard. "I--I like you here," he blurted out, unsure how to put this into words. "Above me." I've never really felt safe before, in anyone but me, he admitted silently.

"I like being here. As I like being beside you and under you. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are in this moment?" He invited Maedhros to look through his eyes, awed by his lover's words and thoughts and presence. "May I... May I pleasure you arimeldanya?" I would very much like to have you in my mouth.

Fingon's hands shifted to Maedhros' shirt, movements reverent as he unlaced it. "Truly you are the greatest work of art I've ever seen." Fingon leaned down to kiss the hollow of his throat. "And I don't only mean the outside package." He shifted, trailing kisses down Maedhros' chest as each new piece of skin was revealed. "Did you like what we did last night, meldanya?" He asked, urging Maedhros' shoulders up slightly as he divested him of his shirt altogether. "Tell me about some of the things we've done so far this trip that you've liked best."

"Being here," he said immediately, biting his lip. "And the--and swimming--and our vows." That was the primary highlight of course, and his heart swelled to the point of tears at thinking of them. "And I--I liked drawing you while you--yes, I enjoyed what we did last night." He sucked in a breath as Fingon bared him to the cool air.

"I did-- I did also," Fingon breathed. His fingers began playing with the top of Maedhros' trousers, dipping just below the edge. He grinned and bent lower, mouthing over the fabric and nipping gently at the tightened area.

Maedhros whined, his hips shifting. "Haven't you had enough of teasing me today?" he protested, though he welcomed Fingon in his fëa in every way. "May I--?" he asked, resting a hand on Fingon's head, smoothing over his baby-soft hair.

I'm yours, Fingon thought. And he meant yes, and please, and I need to feel you, need to have you, need you to have me. He began unlacing Maedhros' pants at his complaint, and as he began pulling then down, urging Maedhros' hips up to slide them off, he placed open mouthed kisses along his husband arousal. Maedhros was warm and sweaty, his scent strong after a day of hiking and climbing. Fingon loved it and bent down taking him deeply as soon as the trousers were off and Maedhros was flat on the bedding again.

"Uhh!" he moaned, "Fin, yes!" he cried, bucking up into his wet warm mouth. His feet scrambled for purchase, and his hands tangled in Fingon's hair.

Not trying to tease, Fingon thought. Want you to finish like this, however quickly you want. Anything for you. Tyë-melin. My Russ. He moaned around his husband, holding him deep for as long as he could, and hoping Maedhros would grab his hair and guide him how he wanted.

Maedhros finished quickly, holding Fingon and guiding him where he most wanted him, and having been teased and near to bursting most of the afternoon. "Fin--" he sighed, petting his hair as his limbs stopped shaking and the pleasure spread through him so completely. "Ai, Findekáno."

Fingon looked up with a content smile and went back to cleaning Maedhros as his husband stopped jerking and twitching. That was _perfect_ , he thought with a pleased purr in his voice. When Maedhros tugged him up he went willingly, returning to his position straddling Maedhros' waist and kissing him deeply, sharing the taste with his husband. "Thank you," he whispered against his lips. "That was… that was exactly what I needed. Thank you." And it was. Seeing Maedhros lying naked on their bed relaxed and sated and cared for was one of the most perfect images. And it left him feeling good-- feeling worthy.

Maedhros' mind boggled. "Thank _you_ ," he breathed. His eyes shone as he looked up at Fingon, who was beautifully framed by the stars. "Thank you. I love you." He felt--he couldn't put into words what he felt. He was loved, protected, worshiped, and in turn Fingon inspired worship, protection, love, and it was magnified between them.

“Inyë tyë-mela.” Fingon couldn’t stop smiling. He pressed his lips to Maedhros’ own, and to his cheeks and his brow and his jaw. He wiggled slightly, settling atop his husband, and couldn’t have been happier. “You glow, arimelda. Can you feel how happy I am right now?” He brushed back Maedhros’ hair, hands trailing over his face and his shoulders and chest.

Fingon smiled. "I would like to. If you are willing." He slid off Maedhros, kneeling next to him and leaning down for another kiss. "If you want that, then we will. I promise. But first- you're starting to get nice and relaxed. I'd like to see if I can help a little more. Will you sit up and help me get undressed, and then roll over for me?"

Maedhros nodded and sat up quickly (indeed, he was already getting up as to follow Fingon when he moved away). His hands reached out to Fingon and he divested him of his clothes, kissing the skin it revealed. "You are beautiful, and delicious," he hummed, kissing down Fingon's shoulders and chest lightly. When Fingon was entirely naked, he rolled to lie on his stomach, though reluctantly, and turned his face toward him so he never left his sight.

“Tyë melin,” Fingon murmured. Staying in Maedhros’ view he reached to the top of the bedding and grabbed the oil jar wetting his hands thoroughly. “Want you,” he whispered. With a kiss to Maedhros’ cheek, he slipped behind him, straddling him again. “Ah-- can you move your hair to the side, off your neck and shoulders?” he asked, beginning to rub his hands along Maedhros’ lower back.

Groaning in pleasure (he was still tight in his thighs and buttocks, though he did not mean to be), Maedhros obliged, tossing his hair onto the bed haphazardly. "Feels good," he said, melting into Fingon's touch.

“Good. Then it’s working.” Fingon worked his hands higher, digging them into Maedhros’ shoulders, which were slightly tight from climbing earlier. He worked his way down with firm hands and soft kisses, sliding back down Maedhros’ legs as he moved low enough to begin massaging Maedhros’ rear. “So tempting, beloved,” he murmured, planting a soft kiss on the skin. “I just want to bite down, or raise a mark, or give you a hard slap and watch your beautiful skin start to redden.” He tapped Maedhros rear gently. “Right there.” But he started to move lower instead, focusing on Maedhros’ right thigh, kneading the muscle at the very top before slowly moving down, massaging and loosening the muscles again and again.

Maedhros sucked in a breath, aroused even at his words, and nodded. "Want that," he gasped. "But--" This feels so _good_ , he added silently, embarrassed at how systematically and fully Fingon was taking him apart.

“I’m yours. I’m yours and you know that. So you can just let go, and relax, and let me take care of you Russ.” I have you, he thought. There’s nothing to fear-- all that I am is yours, and all that you are is mine. And I want to take care of you. I want to help fix every ache and pain, and then I want to fill you with my essence where you’ve never been touched. He eased down one leg and then the other, spending extra time at Maedhros’ feet. His cousin had the cutest feet, which curled and wiggled when he was pleased and when he wanted Fingon to move. Fingon focused on each toe, each tendon, and massaged his strained ankles. “I could do this all night. Love the sounds your making and your thoughts. I love the feel of your skin as you relax under my hands.”

Maedhros groaned, going limp and pliant under his touch with every breath. Feels so good, he said, I love you, thank you. Going to fall asleep, he added, but he wasn't--fall into a trance, maybe--but he wanted to experience every moment of this. He was floating, and yet grounded. He was--Fingon, he was with him and around him and within him he was his and it was perfect. That was it, he was under a spell.

Fingon grinned, riding on the edges of Maedhros’ feelings, moaning as he opened their bond further. “I love you,” he whispered. “I love you vennonya.” He worked his way back up Maedhros’ legs and his rear and his back, closing his hand loosely around Maedhros’ neck and rubbing small circles along it. “Do you want more, beloved, or are you ready for me to do your other side?”

Dizzy with love and perfectly relaxed, Maedhros shrugged. Want-- he didn't want to decide. Fingon's desires were his--he only got uptight as he tried to anticipate Fingon's desires and he didn't want to spoil Fingon's plans. "Want--" he shook himself, coming out of the spell somewhat, "want more? Of whatever. Of you. Please?"

Fingon brushed his lips across the top of Maedhros' head. "Of course. Of course, melda. A little more like this, then. And I'll turn you over." He settled over Maedhros, sitting on his rear and beginning to massage his husband's shoulders and back again. "This is fun. Nice. I like it. We should definitely do this more often."

He had risen up on his elbows, but he lay back down at Fingon's words. He nodded, humming contentedly, absurdly grateful that Fingon had made the decision for him. "Thanks," he mumbled.

Fingon nodded above him, leaning down to mouth at his husband's neck. His own desire was stirring, though he felt no need to hurry on to something else. This was perfect, in its own quiet way, and he would never tire of watching Maedhros muscles shifting beneath him, or his starlit hair move with his every breath. He sighed, sitting up again. Sometime later he stopped his deep movements trying to loosen knots and moved to a softer slide of skin over skin, pausing to pour more oil over Maedhros back before trailing his hands through it. "What are you thinking right now, love?" he asked softly.

"You," he answered automatically, lovingly. "How much I want you. How good you feel." His hands curled loose at his sides, and a bit of drool slipped onto the blanket.

“Mmm. I think I like your thoughts.” Fingon kissed his shoulder, biting lightly. “Can you spread your legs for me, Russ?” Fingon looked back. “A little more, there, that’s perfect. So good.” He trailed kisses down Maedhros’ spine as he shifted down, settling between his husband’s legs. Cupping his cheeks, he spread him, and stopped, memorizing the image for a future picture. “Anvanya,” he murmured, just looking.

"Mmh," Maedhros said, his leg kicking slightly, though otherwise he remained relaxed. "Feels g-good."

“You’re gorgeous,” Fingon said, turning his gaze down to Maedhros’ feet and up to his fiery crown. “I should sculpt you, just like this.” He felt Maedhros’ blush, and saw it on the back of his neck. “But for right now, I think I’d rather taste you.” He trailed kisses over Maedhros rear (firm and muscled and moving willingly under his hands as he stretched him), tongue skating across skin without ever touching his entrance. Love this, he thought, when he finally pressed his lips carefully over Maedhros’ entrance, tongue flicking out.

"Oh--F-Findekaahh--" he moaned, hips rocking slightly, though otherwise he remained still. "Pleasepleaseplease. Feels--good--" he huffed, and whined as Fingon's tongue probed him.

Shhh, Fingon thought. And he wished his hands could be two places at once because he wanted to stroked, to sooth, even as he held Maedhros open. A thought flitted across his mind that he could tell Maedhros to hold himself open- but that was a thought for another day, another time. Not now with his husband relaxed and open and almost ready. He licked across his entrance, alternating between broad strokes of his tongue and gentle probing. His hands were spread such that his thumbs lay on either side of Maedhros’ center, and he could stretch slightly open with the, allowing his tongue to penetrate more deeply. When he pulled back the entire are was slick with saliva and shone in the starlight. Maedhros almost looked as though he were already oiled and prepared. Fingon shivered pleasantly at the thought.

Maedhros' limbs twitched, and he whined softly. Good, good, he thought, it was so warm and lovely and relaxing, and his disappointment was palpable when Fingon pulled away.

“I think you’re ready now, darling.” Fingon shifted to Maedhros’ side, pushing his legs together. “Roll over for me.” With a hand on Maedhros’ shoulder and on his hip he guided his husband onto his front, quickly straddling him. He moved to kiss him without conscious thought, simply _needing_ that physical connection. “Still feeling good?” he asked. “I think it’s time to work on your front. I bet your shoulders are just as tense on this side. Not to mention your arms and legs, your abdomen from all of our climbing. So much to work on.”

Grateful for the help (he felt too big, or too small, and Fingon was all that mattered), Maedhros settled onto his back. "Yeah--feels good--" he wasn't quite as hard as he thought he was lying on his stomach, but it was a distant ache that kept him awake and focused on Fingon wholly. "Thank you, thank you," he murmured, eyes half-lidded. He liked this more, because he could watch Fingon from this position, and suddenly it didn't matter if or when Fingon took him.

Fingon’s eyes slipped shut as he basked in Maedhros’ contentedness. He grabbed the oil again (splurging, but there would be more when they arrived at the cabin, and they had one more jar with them now, each having packed one) and began to work out the kinks in his husband’s shoulders and arms. He delighted in each pleasurable sigh and groan, and when he reached Maedhros’ hands he placed gentle kisses across them adoringly, worshipfully. He thought about these hands picking him up and bandaging skinned knees, pulling him higher into a tree or onto a horse, catching him during a rockslide, and slipping into his body, pinning him to their bed while he was lost in pleasure. He was rocking slowly against Maedhros’ before he slid down to do his best to rub out his lover’s sides and hips.

"You all right?" Maedhros checked. "We could--do you need--?" He opened his eyes wider, lifting his head. Was Fingon really getting aroused--taking care of him like this? It was a beautiful realization.

“Sorry,” Fingon whispered, blushing. “I’m well, Russ. I want to take care of you.” He settled himself lower, between Maedhros’ legs where he wouldn’t brush against his husband awkwardly while his hands still had a medicinal intent. He finished more quickly this time- or perhaps it only seemed that way- and then he found himself lunching forward, catching Maedhros’ lips with his own and biting his bottom lip gently, pulling on it before releasing it. “My beautiful husband,” he murmured. “You still… do you still want this? If you’re tired and just want to sleep now, I would still count myself most blessed to spend the night holding you close to the stars at the entrance to our valley.”

"No, no, no, don't stop--" he whispered. "Please, please, I want this, want you, please--" His heart thumped a beat or two faster, hands twitching toward Fingon. It felt so _good_ , all of it. "Kiss me again, take me, please?"

“ _Anything_ ,” Fingon said earnestly. “I love thee.” It was a statement, as true as saying the seas were blue or the grass green. He dove forward, taking his husband’s lips again in kiss after kiss. “I promised you something,” he whispered next to Maedhros’ ear. “Do you think you can hold your legs up for me?”

Maedhros drank in the kiss, and, "Findekáno, I could fly if you asked me to," he whispered, feeling loose and light. It took some coordination and some help from Fingon, but soon he grasped his legs behind the knee, feeling vulnerable and _good_.

“Perfect,” Fingon whispered, because it was. He bent down, lapping at Maedhros’ entrance again, nose nudging against his sac. He stroked Maedhros’ lightly with one hand, before moving them to gently rub at his husband’s inner thighs. Above him he heard Maedhros’ breath catch, and he grinned, humming against Maedhros in pleasure. He knew it took a great deal for Maedhros to be so vulnerable, let alone to find pleasure in it, and he relished his husband’s joy, cherished his trust, and wanted to take him to new heights this night in more ways than one.

He whined and moaned at the touches, his toes wriggling. "Fin, Finno," he pleaded: he wanted this, he wanted everything. "I'm so--I love you--feels so good."

Fingon almost sobbed as he was suddenly hit with Maedhros’ passion. He wanted everything too-- everything two Eldar could be to one another, he wanted with Maedhros. He gave him a last lick, not sure he wanted to stop. Later, Russ, I want you to slouch a bit while you’re sitting reading a book-- at the cabin or at our home. And I want you to spread your legs, and I’ll kneel in front of you and get to do this for as long as I want. You can just read or sketch or do whatever would best pleasure you, and I’ll be kneeling in front of you licking you. What do you think of that? He kissed the tip of Maedhros’ arousal, moving to grab the oil, and he dripped it over fingers before sliding one easily inside. Maedhros was slightly stretched from his mouth, and was entirely, unbelievably, relaxed. It was exactly what Fingon wanted, and he leaned up to kiss his husband as he added a second finger.

"Hnnnghhh," Maedhros gasped, tossing his head in passion and pulling his knees out, spreading himself further, making himself more vulnerable--and he wasn't afraid of it. He wanted it, and the stretch was unbearably erotic, and it felt good and safe. And the filthy things Fingon was saying--the filthy, wonderful things-- "Finno," he gasped, not daring to move, not wanting to move, wanting only to be there wholly for Fingon's pleasure--and knowing Fingon was focused on his. "M-more?”

“Soon,” Fingon whispered, scissoring his fingers. “I want you well prepared. I’ll not hurt you, my darling. _My_ darling boy, tonight, aren’t you?” Fingon gave him a fleeting kiss. “I warned you,” he whispered into Maedhros’ ear. “Warned you a decade ago, how this night would go. If you are willing.” He added a third finger, and it encountered a slight resistance, but slid in fairly easily. “You’re amazing, my Russandoll. The way you just _take_ me like that.”

Maedhros' stomach fluttered at the emphasis on 'my,' and he blushed at the 'Russan _doll_ ,' and nodded, whimpering. He remembered. "Want to t-take--want you to--want to be good for you--" he babbled, unable to express himself, and his hips twitched, impatient until—

He gasped as Fingon touched him deeper, touched the nerves inside him that shone stars into his eyes, and he cried out, legs kicking. "Oh, Fin!" he shouted. "There, right—there! Findekáno, _please_!"

“Shhh. I have you. I have you. Anything you need, beloved.” Fingon twisted his fingers, rubbing along the spot that was making Maedhros’ hröa dance for him. “Just a little more. I want to be sure.” He pulled out, adding more oil to his fingers and pressing in one more time. “There. I think… if you’re ready. You can let go of your legs, love. Just wrap them around my waist. There.” He slipped his hand out, rubbing the last of the oil on it against his arousal. Biting his lips he finished the quick, light stroke and removed his hand before this ended too soon. Fingon leaned up, lips pressing against Maedhros’ mouth. “Tyë-melin. Tenn’ ambar metta. If you want me, I am yours. As you, my boy, are mine.” He tucked a stray hair behind Maedhros’ ear, glancing around at the stars and the valley before his eyes locked on Maedhros as he prepared to enter him.

Maedhros whimpered. His world suddenly narrowed entirely to Fingon and he almost wasn't sure where he was, where all these stars and wind were coming from, except that it was beautiful. The stars in a halo around Fingon and the wind playing his hair made him look like one of the Ainur: beautiful and powerful. He was glad he didn't have to hold himself anymore because his hands were slipping, and he swallowed hard, nodding eagerly at everything Fingon said and everything he wanted to do to him. "Please," he whimpered, his hands resting loose on Fingon's arms.

Fingon guided himself to Maedhros' entrance, pressing teasingly without entering. "Russandol," he groaned. "Tyë melin." He held his husband's hip down and pressed just barely inside, pausing and panting and swallowing roughly. "I promised you slow and gentle," he whispered, watching his cousin's shifting expressions. His hand tightened on Maedhros' hip.

Maedhros gasped, and didn't realize he was holding in a breath until he went to reply "Tye melin," and when he fixed his breathing he tightened--and whimpered in anticipation of pain, only to find it didn't hurt in the slightest. He wanted to weep. Now he was getting that mix of sensations, the feeling that he was in Fingon's place as well as his own, was both top and bottom, and he couldn't say reliably where he ended and Fingon began. Good, he thought, and whined, unable to speak, good, and it was so good tears stood in his eyes.

Fingon kissed him, lips brushing aside his tears. "More?" he breathed, sliding a hair's breadth deeper and pausing as soon as they could feel the movement. He fought to keep from getting lost in the feeling of Maedhros around him, hot and tight and yielding to him so eagerly. Maedhros was gorgeous like this, and Fingon couldn't bring himself to look away.

Maedhros' breath hitched and he nodded eagerly. Please please please, he thought, his limbs still twitching erratically and tears falling from his eyes. It was so beautiful, Fingon was so beautiful, and _he_ felt beautiful. Don't stop, don't let me go, he begged, because he felt light enough to float away. Why had he _ever_ thought this was not his position?

Never, Fingon thought. "If I've caught you, does that mean I get to keep you?" He asked with a smile. He slid a half-inch deeper and stilled. The arm holding him up shook as he leaned down and kissed Maedhros deeply. He was stunned, amazed by how perfect his husband felt around him. And he was _inside_ Russ, slowly joining them together as closely as two Eldar could be. Fingon whimpered.

Maedhros gulped for air, unable to get enough, and was just nodding to everything now. He caught hold of Fingon's hair and moaned.

Love you, Fingon thought. He jerked forward as Maedhros' walls shifted around him, moaning lowly as he sank in another inch. "Ruuusssss. Oh, oh my _doll_. You're amazing, you know that?" He wrapped his free hand around Maedhros' neck and dragged him into a kiss even as Maedhros tried to catch his breath. You feel-- you feel... He threw the sensations toward Maedhros, floating in the waves of his husband's surprise and pleasure, trust and love. "You're perfect. Thank you. Thank you for giving this to us. Thank you for--" He suddenly couldn't bear to imagine never having this, couldn't dream of a world where Maedhros refused to let Fingon within him as he so eagerly accepted Maedhros. "Tyë melin," he whispered. His hand slipped up to tangle on Maedhros' hair as he dragged him into another kiss.

He _was_ a doll. He was small, helpless, vulnerable, something possessed and belonging to Fingon, and Maedhros shivered as his world transformed and flipped and folded, as unstable as his stomach, which was entirely aflutter--and slowly, steadily being speared, being rearranged. Fingon was transforming him from the inside out, and he whined, his breath catching. This was more than physical, for he could feel Fingon affecting him metaphysically--and he was doing the same to Fingon, he could feel it, though he had no idea how. He squeaked and whined helplessly as Fingon took hold of his hair, twitching helplessly, and as Fingon pressed against that spot inside of him, he cried out wordlessly: Ai, Findekáno, I'm close, please--gonna--want you to mark me inside, please!

"Easy, easy," Fingon soothed. He let go of his husband's hair and reached down to take him in hand. He squeezed firmly, though not cruelly around his base. "I'm not even all the way in, vennonya. Just relax, and I promise I won't leave you unfulfilled. Or unfilled." He smiled and felt Maedhros' huff of laughter. Fingon pressed against Maedhros and slid deeper, almost all the way in now. He wanted this to last, wanted to explore the feelings and thoughts Maedhros was sending him, though he doubted either of them would last much longer. "You are... A vision of beauty and light my doll. Are you enjoying this as much as I am?" He nibbled at Maedhros' ear, adding, "when you were first inside me, when you paused and rested within me, I could feel your heartbeat inside me. And it was... beyond anything I had ever imagined. Can you feel my heart, doll, can you feel my heartbeat deep within you, embraced and protected and loved?" You're so good to me. Warm and inviting and lovely. It's like... like coming home. Because I belong in you as you belong in me. Love this, Russandol, vennonya, my prince.

Maedhros whined, nodding, dizzy, overwhelmed. He wanted more. He needed more. I can feel--I can feel you, he answered. He didn't know what to do, what he was supposed to do because from this angle he couldn't move, and his hips twitched only once before he realized how bad of an idea that was. He felt--pinned--and in an entirely good way, like he wouldn't mind if he spent the rest of his life pinned like a butterfly to a board. But Fingon's heartbeat steadied him, he heard that, he focused on that, on Fingon throbbing inside him, and his breath still came in small gasps but at least it came. Doll, he almost liked the sound of that, somewhere where he couldn't admit it out loud.

"My beautiful prince," Fingon said softly. "My gorgeous boy." He pulled out partway and then slid the rest of the inside until he was flush with Maedhros. "My _doll_ ," he whimpered. He shifted his grip on Maedhros as he began to move, hips rocking in long, slow thrusts. He stroked Maedhros gently, and jerked into Maedhros hard when he twisted his hand on his lover and Maedhros tightened around him. "Vennonya," Fingon moaned, lips seeking his husband's desperately.

Maedhros cried out, tears not of pain or fear but of joy blinding him, and he flailed, legs kicking and hands twitching, clinging to Fingon's hair. Every word stroked him as though an expert touch to something inside him even more sensitive than his sex. He moaned and whined, the noises that were coming out of him not his own. This was--he was being reborn. And Fingon was more than mother or father, Fingon was maker, was creator. The kiss, when it came, was glorious and perfect and as a divine blessing, and "Thank you thank you thank you," he found himself murmuring when their lips parted. "Fin, _please_!"

"Move," Fingon growled, hand leaving Maedhros' arousal as he urged his lover to rock with him. He sped up, barely able to think except for Russ and beautiful and mine and yours. He sought Maedhros' mouth desperately, grabbing at his hair again and tugging. "More. C'mon, darling. A little more- you're doing so well arimeldanya. So good my perfect prince. You look beautiful spread out under me. And mine." He crashed their mouths together, pounding into Maedhros. My love, my life, my Maitimo, my darling doll. Tyë melin. Tyë melin. My other half. My light. My great craftsman. My everything.

Maedhros' movements were clumsy at first, but he soon discovered how moving like this was--was--it stole his breath, it almost frightened him from doing at again it felt so good. He shook his head wildly and keened, on the very very edge, and Fingon's sweet words holding him there and holding him safe and just /holding/ him, owning him, penetrating and possessing him. "Findekánooooo!" he shrieked.

"Russ. C'mon; I've got you. I'll catch you. Let go for me, doll." Fingon was so close, and everything was tight and wet and warm and safe. He growled, mouthing along Maedhros' neck before pulling back to look at him. "Look at me, Russ. That's it. So good for me, Russandol." He could feel Maedhros and himself and they were so close and they were just...there. "Come for me _now_." It was an order and a plea as Fingon rushed over the edge and began to spill deep within his husband.

Maedhros came, _on command_ just like that, and it was almost like magic, like he was controlled, like he wasn't his own Elda but was joined with Fingon fully, bound to him completely, and it was warm and perfect and vulnerable and everything was Fingon: he was above him, around him, in him, Maedhros even felt like he _was_ him. He felt at once everything and nothing, for every little touch was magnified to the point where he could almost feel individual lines coating his insides as Fingon filled him, could feel every strand of hair that Fingon pulled--and yet it also felt overwhelming, like everything was a rush of sensations that he was drowning in. But of course in the end it was all Fingon, and he was the only thing that mattered, and the pleasure reverberated back and forth between them until it generated its own light, until their fear glowed. His hips spasmed as he spent all over himself, and he couldn't stop howling, and it was a few moments before he realized it was over and he'd come down (maybe he had blacked out?) and Fingon was gentling him, shushing him, kissing him, and he was weeping openly but he was holding Fingon, too.

"I love you," Fingon whispered, tears rolling down his own cheeks. "I _love_ you." He rocked Maedhros' gently, holding his husband and soothing him. And until he started to soften or Maedhros began to feel uncomfortable, he chose to stay seated in his husband's body, breath hitching every time Maedhros shifted around him. "That was... Oh, Russ." Fingon relaxed on top of his husband, pressing them together from shoulders to feet. I love thee.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Maedhros whispered, when he could. "I love you I love you I love you. So good, feels so good, don't leave, just hold me, please, I love you, thank you," he babbled, his voice soft and raspy from screaming. Fingon's skin felt so good, so warm and so perfect, and the pleasure from just touching now seemed never ending.

"Anything. Everything." Fingon brushed Maedhros' hair back gently. "I would move mountains for you, my prince. Of course I will hold you. Tyë melin." They kissed lazily until Fingon softened and began to slip from Maedhros. He whined when his husband tightened around him, trying to hold him in. "Later, if you want," Fingon whispered, sending an image of himself laying back on their bedding while Maedhros straddled him and rode him, out shining the backdrop of stars. "Thank you for this," he murmured, head falling to rest on Maedhros' chest as he relaxed completely. For agreeing to wait, he meant, and for letting Fingon lead them, for opening so beautifully for him and for wanting him in return.

Maedhros shook his head. "Thank _you_ ," he sighed. He opened himself fully (as if he could be any more open), letting Fingon know how safe he felt, how warm, how loved, how protected, how good the stretch felt and how good it felt to come together. And his interest was piqued by the vision, but he was exhausted entirely: later. "I love you. Tyë melin. Thank you." He loosed Fingon's hair from the thick braid and threaded his fingers through it.

Fingon pressed into his fingers and made a sound that he wouldn't admit was a purr. This was lovely. Russ was warm and hard beneath him, and he could fall asleep with the hands in his hair. He let out a mental sigh. First though, it was probably his responsibility to clean up. "That feels amazing, Russ," he moaned, arching into his cousin's hands. "A-aaah. Can we take a two minute break, and then pick up right here?" He pushed himself into a sitting position, unwilling to move further than he had to. He grabbed a small cloth and one of the waterskins, and began reverently washing Maedhros' body, first with his tongue, and then with the cloth. He licked over his husband's entrance briefly, but he liked the idea of his seed resting inside- a thought which made Meadhros chuckle above him. "Well, I do," he admitted aloud, giving the area a cursory wipe with the cloth and after wiping himself off tossing it to the side. "Love you. My husband. My life." He settled back against Maedhros, and tilted his head up to look at him beseechingly. "Hands?"

"My hands, as the rest of me, belong to you," Maedhros whispered, threading his fingers through Fingon's perfect hair. "Thank you," he said again. "I can't believe I ever didn't want this. Or didn't think I did."

“Neither can I.” Fingon shook his head and snuggled closer. “It doesn’t matter. We have this, now, and nothing can take it from us. Tenn’ ambar-meta, vennonya.” Fingon smiled and pressed into Maedhros’ gentle touches. “Thank you. This feels nice. And this was… so much more than I imagined. I love you, my darling.” He looked up. “Now, tell me, is there anything I can do for you right now? Anything you need or want or have some vague inclination you would like?”

Maedhros huffed, shaking his head. He felt safe and warm like this with Fingon on top of him, but now he wanted-- "Could we lie now perhaps--side by side?" As equals. "Also with a blanket or two."

“Of course.” They shifted, Fingon rolling to his side, and he reached down to pull up the blankets. “And if we get too cold, we can throw the towel on as well. And if we’re too cold we can fold the bedding over. We’d have to stay close to each other, but… I wouldn’t mind that.” They resettled with Maedhros’ arm around Fingon’s waist and Fingon tugging lightly at his cousin’s hair. And it was good. Equals-- Fingon loved that, wanted that. “Better?”

Maedhros nodded wordlessly, gazing into Fingon's eyes as if he never wanted to look anywhere else. He slid his arm beneath Fingon's head and pulled him close. He kissed him softly, all across his face, needing closeness.

“I love thee,” Fingon whispered. “And I’m enjoying our honeymoon very, very much. He relaxed, warm and safe in Maedhros’ arms, torn between watching his husband and looking up at the stars. Time passed and he felt languid and almost melted- feelings he may have felt courtesy of their bond. And he was pleased that Maedhros did not appear to be sore or in pain. He had tried so hard to make sure Russ wouldn’t, and he appeared to have succeeded.

"Don't want to sleep," Maedhros said petulantly. "Want to look at you. And the stars. But. Tired." He shook himself. "Relaxed," he decided was more accurate.

“That _was_ one of my goals,” Fingon admitted. He rolled close to Maedhros. “And me too. I’m not sure I want to sleep at all, as much as I enjoy sleeping with you. I don’t want to be separated from you even by dreams.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I love you. And I’m so happy right now it’s making me silly. Sorry.”

Maedhros grinned, but he closed his eyes. "You'll be here in the morning, though," he mumbled. "Sleeping now. Hold me."

Fingon smiled and wrapped Maedhros in his arms. He kissed Maedhros’ brown, and watched the stars overhead as his husband’s breathing softened and he drifted to sleep. He kept watch long into the night, pulling the blankets closer around them as the air at the summit grew cool.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Maedhros woke with a start around dawn, as Treelight shone into his eyes. Fingon was-- "You stayed awake all night?" He shifted, feeling stiff but not at all in pain. "For me?" He was embarrassed.

“Mhmm. Russ, please don’t.” Fingon spoke softly as he looked down where Maedhros had wound up, head resting against his shoulder. “Don’t be embarrassed when I would do far more for you. This… it was a perfect night. I was exactly where I wanted to be-- in your arms on our peak and under the stars. I just wanted to _be_ for a while.” He shrugged with his free shoulder. “Did you sleep well, beloved?” He grinned teasingly and brush a hand through Maedhros’ hair. “Did you sleep well, my doll?”

"I--I did," he said, flushing bright red and giggling. "Please, you sleep now. I'll watch, and I'll make you breakfast in a little." He brushed Fingon's hair back from his face.

“I-- I suppose I should,” Fingon said, yawning as he actively thought about sleeping. “I’d like that. Do I need to check you first? To make sure you aren’t, ah, injured?”

"I don't hurt at all. You were perfectly gentle with me, Findekáno--I am a brute compared to you." He squeezed Fingon close and kissed his brow. "Sleep. I will watch you. Tyë melin."

“Not a brute,” Fingon muttered. “I _liked_ how you claimed me. And you’d have stopped if I asked.” He nestled into Maedhros, tucking his head against his cousin’s chest and pulling up the blankets to block out the light. “But I’m glad you’re well. G’night. Love you.”

"Love you," Maedhros said, kissing Fingon to sleep and holding him tight until he said breathing evenly in sleep. He watched Fingon until it was fully light. He was more beautiful than all the stars. He waited until he could hear Fingon's stomach growling before he got up and used the last of the wood to stoke the fire and begin making oatmeal.

Fingon was warm and he was comfortable and the only thing missing was another heart beating close to his. He buried his face under his pillow as he woke, trying to block out the day. His stomach, which he as certain had woken him, had other ideas and gurgled pleadingly. He could smell his husband’s cooking, and forced himself to peak out at the small fire that Maedhros was cooking over. His cousin was focusing on the food he was preparing, and his brow had the slightest furrow to it. He looked adorable. “Mara tuilë, vennonya.”

Maedhros was lightly stiff, and part of him almost wished he hurt more, for he couldn't tell the soreness from the climb from the soreness of last night, and he wanted it. Cooking passed uneventfully, except for the waxing of Laurelin, which was lovely (though not half so lovely as the perfect pink foot poking out of the blankets toward the fire), and soon oatmeal was ready. Just in time, as "Mara tuilë," he answered, bringing a bowl and cup of tea to Fingon. He returned for his food and then slipped under the blanket with Fingon again.

Warm! Fingon thought, snuggling close. He heard Maedhros’ laughter float across the bond in response. “You’re spoiling me, beloved-- I feel like I should be taking care of you this morning. Thank you. Everything smells delicious.” He took a sip of the hot tea and turned to his husband, kissing him with a pleased smile.

"After you took such good care of me last night?" Maedhros responded, incredulous. "I think not." He wrapped his legs around Fingon as they ate, kissing often throughout breakfast. "It's beautiful up here," Maedhros said, but he wasn't looking so much at the view.

Fingon blushed and ducked his head. “It’s very beautiful up here. And you only add to the view, darling.” He stole a kiss and one of the berries from Maedhros’ oatmeal, needing to change his berry oatmeal ratio to keep his preferred breakfast consistency throughout the bowl. “May I ask what you’d like to do this morning?”

"Spend time here with you," he beamed. "We could climb down later, but--but m-maybe I could--we could, if you want--what you said last night--we could--I could--r-ride you?" Maedhros bit his lip and looked at his bowl.

“Russ,” Fingon whispered, shivering in anticipation. “I… if you would, I would like that very much.” He reached over, tucking a piece of hair back. “That sounds like a wonderful idea, darling. And I would love to be inside you again.” It sounded like a lovely way to start the day.

Swelling at Fingon's agreement, Maedhros nodded and smiled, eyes still focused on his breakfast. "Good," he said.

Fingon leaned over and pressed his lips to Maedhros’ cheek. “Almost done?” he asked, beginning to hurry through his last few bits of oatmeal. He shifted, body already stirring at Maedhros’ idea and his demeanor.

"Yeah. I mean, yes." He swallowed carefully. "You'll have to help me, maybe, please?" He suddenly wasn't as hungry, but he finished his breakfast anyway.

“Shall I oil my fingers and open you up nice and slow until you’re practically dripping? That way, when you’re ready, you can just sink down on me however fast you’d like.” Fingon grinned, setting his empty bowl aside and quickly finishing his tea. “Or did you want my mouth again?”

Maedhros took in a shaky breath. "Um. Fingers?" He was impatient already and set his bowl aside. "Please? If--you--h-how--or--where do you want me?"

Fingon laughed and pressed Maedhros back, following him down. “I want you everywhere. But, to answer your question, right here?” His lips sought Maedhros’ as he reached blindly for the oil. “I do want to check you, though.” He shifted down, pulling back the sheets. “Could you hold up your legs again darling?”

Nodding eagerly, Maedhros grabbed his knees and held them, glad his face was hidden in this most humiliating of positions. "It doesn't hurt," he was quick to say.

Maedhros’ skin was pink around his entrance and it quivered when Fingon brushed against it. His cousin looked relaxed, as he had after his massage and the area did not look terribly irritated or painful. “Good.” Fingon bushed his lips against Maedhros’ arousal. “You look absolutely stunning, doll. Would you let me paint you like this one day?” He dipped his fingers in the oil and carefully pushed one inside, groaning as Maedhros’ body accepted it easily.

"I--I doubt I could stay still," he moaned, legs kicking when Fingon touched him in certain places. He whined. "Feels so good," he whispered, eyes focusing on the sky.

“Feels glorious.” Fingon added a second finger and leaned over Maedhros, wrapping a hand around the back of Maedhros’ head and pulling him into a kiss, almost folding his body in two. “Tyë melin.”

Maedhros whimpered gratefully into the kiss, absurdly grateful for the attention, and Fingon's praise and gentleness. His stomach flip flopped nervously. "Tyë melin," he answered.

“Want to try something?” Fingon asked with a mischievous grin.

Maedhros' stomach flipped again, but he nodded eagerly. "Please, please," he said, excited without even knowing what it was.

“Valar, I love thee,” Fingon murmured, touched by his husband’s eagerness even before Maedhros asked about his idea or peaked at his thoughts. “Here, you can let your legs down. There. Now,” Fingon draped himself across Maedhros and kissed him again, “roll with me.” When Maedhros was above him, pressing him down, Fingon had to close his eyes for a moment. “Want you inside me again later,” he whispered. He began positioning Maedhros so that he could watch his lover kneeling above him as he continued to open him.

He felt instantly awkward and exposed in this position, unsure what to do with himself and his too-long limbs, and he wriggled and shifted, going down on his knuckles and popping back up on his knees before finally asking "How should I...?"

“Whatever you’d like.” Fingon smiled, adding, “Would you like to hold my hair? Or kiss?” He slid a third finger into his cousin, moaning as he felt Maedhros’ hips move down, pressing him further inside.

Maedhros flinched, taken aback by the stretch and unable to hide his reaction. "Oh!" He said. "Oh, I--" he tangled his fingers in Fingon's hair and went down on his elbows to kiss him.

“There we go. It’s alright, doll. I’ve got you,” Fingon murmured, moving his free hand to grip Maedhros’ hip and try to steady him. “It’s just three fingers, arimelda. I know you can take more than this.”  He scissored his fingers, trying to open Maedhros a little further. “Do you want more?” he asked, suddenly. “Or do you want to ride me now?”

Fingon’s hips jerked at the idea. “I want that, too,” he whispered. “But I don’t want you too sore to climb. One more finger, though, if you want.” He pulled out, groaning as Maedhros’ body tightened around him. Pouring more oil onto his hand he returned to his task, carefully slipping four fingers inside. From their current position he could see Maedhros’ entrance opening around him. “Fuck,” he whispered.

Maedhros whimpered, feeling so good even while--maybe especially because--he felt awkward and exposed. He didn't mind Fingon seeing him like this, unless a very small part of him was afraid his nerves would be a turn-off for Fingon. Cowardice wasn't a virtue, and awkward wasn't what Fingon fell in love with. But his trust was so complete he opened up anyway (though "Sorry," he murmured). He wanted to get this right and finally "Okay I want--you now, please. W-will you help me?"

“I’d do anything for you.” Fingon eased his hand out. He moved to the oil jar, but as an idea struck him he picked it up and moved it to where they lay. “But if I help you, will you help me? I need you to get me nice and slick. Can you do that for me?” He set the jaw on his chest and moved his hands to stroke Maedhros’ hips and thighs gently, biting his lips as he felt Maedhros shiver above him.

Okay, this he could do, though how he would focus with his quivering, needy hole (more desperate than his cock had ever been) was unclear. He worked automatically, sloppy with the oil but clever with his hands, stroking Fingon firmly and paying special attention to his balls until he was hard and shining. "Okay. Okay?"

“Y-yes. Yes. Careful, close!” Fingon grabbed his husband’s wrist, drawing him off. “You’re too good at this, beloved,” he panted. They set the oil aside, and his hands went back to Maedhros’ hips, easing him higher and a little further up until he was positioned correctly and Fingon teased at his entrance. “You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” he whispered. “Will you ride me, darling?”

"Try," Maedhros mumbled, frowning down at the situation, trying to get a good look. He took Fingon too slow at first, and kept missing, Fingon sliding out of him (how do you "miss" something like that?), and growling in frustration it almost hurt when he took Fingon into himself too fast.

Fingon yelped at the sudden tight-hot-Russ! He gripped Maedhros’ hips harder, trying to slow him and steady him. “Russ!” he panted. “Are you-- is this alright? Is this good?” When Maedhros stilled for a moment he raised one hand to cup his husband’s face tenderly. “I’m going to regret suggesting this, because you already undo me so quickly, but don’t move up this time. Try just moving your hips in a circle-- remember when I did that?”

Now _that_ felt good, Maedhros thought, rocking his hips in a circle, and he keened softly, biting his lip in concentration. Fingon's hands felt good on his hips and "Don't let go," he begged. "Can I--just a little more?" Take more? He dared to glance up and reminded himself he truly was at the top of the world, and settled.

“Whatever you want,” Fingon whispered, moaning softly as Maedhros moved over him. I’m yours, remember? I love you, and I’m yours.

Maedhros whined softly, nodding, only-- "Help?" He laid his hands over the top of Fingon's hands on his hips, being for guidance.

Fingon tried to sense his husband through the bond, wanting to guide Maedhros in whatever way would best please him. He urged his husband up slowly, and then back down as he thrust up to meet him. “Russ!” Fingon whimpered, tossing his head back. He couldn’t look away, not from Maedhros, bright and strong, red hair moving in the breeze against a backdrop of bright blue sky.

Maedhros was unsure at first, watching where their bodies joined, but Fingon's whimper had him looking up, and Fingon was so beautiful, flushed yet serene, and Maedhros knew he could do this. He pressed his lips together and moved.

“Russssssandollll!” Fingon groaned the name, head tossing but he had to still had to look at his husband, had to _watch_ as Maedhros rode him. “Valar, melda. You-- you just… love you!” His hands squeezed Maedhros’ hips for a moment, but quickly loosened his grip. He wanted to guide, or even just ground his husband-- not control him and certainly not hurt him. “You are incredible, darling. Do you have any idea how lovely you look right now?”

Maedhros shook his head helplessly, worrying at his lip until it was bright red. He was sure he was flushing, from exertion if not from embarrassment. Fingon looked--he looked--fairer and clearer than the sky. It took him a while to work up the rhythm, but eventually he found it, rocking up and down, and occasionally sliding his hips around in a circle.

“Are you embarrassed, my Russandoll?” Fingon asked. He pulled himself up to kiss Maedhros, one hand slipping around his back. He moaned at the shift in position. “You shouldn’t be, darling. You’re stunning. Gorgeous. And even now… can you feel me, through our bond? Even now I am yours. Even with me filling you, you’re perfectly in control-- Fuck!”  He cut off as Maedhros’ hips circled again, burying his head in the crook of his husband’s neck.

Maedhros drew in a sharp breath, nodding. He didn't feel in control--he was yet unsteady in this position, but was getting the hang of it--and he was certain he liked it. Fingon was hard and full inside of him, but ever more he noticed (he felt) how Fingon reacted to his movements, and he swelled with pride and warmth: with 'Fingon is happy' and with 'I did that'.

“Tyë-melin, vennonya,” Fingon murmured. He pulled Maedhros into a last warm kiss and lay back, content to watch Maedhros moving over him and guide him with slight movements of his hands. “Russ?” he asked with a smile that meant trouble.

It took all Maedhros' concentration to speak instead of whimper. "Y-yes? Fin?"

Fingon grinned, squeezing Maedhros lightly. His eyes dropped down to watch his cousin’s arousal bobbing with his movements before he met his gaze again. “Will you ever be able to think of riding the same way again, my doll? Tell me, whenever you get on a horse now, will you think about this night, riding me above our valley in the cool early morning air?” He started to rub small circles on Maedhros’ skin with his thumbs, enjoying Maedhros’ reaction to his suggestions. “And every time Turko asks you to go riding now-- or any of our family members, before you agree or disagree, will you think of this moment-- think first of riding me, rather than riding a horse?”

Maedhros gulped and whined, imagining the scenario and knowing Fingon was right. "Finno," he pleaded.

“What do you need, Russandol? Here, do you need this?” Fingon lowered one hand and grasped Maedhros’ firmly. His husband was already slick and leaking, and he began an easy rhythm of his skin, matching the union of their bodies below. “Anything. I would do anything for you, beloved. I love thee, my light, aimeldanya.” When Maedhros next swiveled his hips, Fingon twisted his hand as he stroked, drawing a whimper from his husband. And Fingon went back and forth unable to decide where to focus-- on the sight of himself slipping inside Maedhros, or his husband’s weeping arousal, or on Maedhros’ face wrecked with pleasure. And he wanted to taste his husband. Fingon suddenly had the irrational wish that he could fold himself completely over and take his husband in his mouth even as they remained joined together.

Overwhelmed by the image, Maedhros clamped down on his building orgasm and moved faster, harder. "I need to feel you finish inside me," he begged, shocking himself by saying it out loud. "P-please, so close."

“Me, too.” Fingon whispered. He stroked Maedhros faster and pulled himself up to steal one more kiss. Then, falling back, he let go and trusted Maedhros to take care of them, to catch him, and he fell. The world almost went white except he could still see Maedhros, his husband, his world moving above him in ecstasy. And everything was warm and tight and good and he kept filling Maedhros who was moving above him wrecking him, who seemed determined to draw every last drop he had to give. And he would give everything he had willingly, eagerly to please Maedhros.

Feeling Fingon coming apart beneath him and inside him undid Madhros, and he came hard across Fingon' s hand and his chest with a bellow that challenged the heavens. "Ai, Fin," he sighed, and fell forward against him, hardly caring for the mess, and embraced him.

"Nnngh. Russandol." Fingon felt heavy and exhausted. He forced his arms up high enough to wrap them around Maedhros' back. "Thank you. Thank you vennonya." He shifted, slipping one hand between them before raising it to his lips, tasting Maedhros as he had wanted to earlier. He sucked at his fingers and watched Maedhros, slumped against him and still holding Fingon inside.

Maedhros squirmed as Fingon slid out of him, and he whined at the loss of contact. "Thank you," he said, sliding their lips together.

Fingon grinned against Maedhros' mouth and shifted his hands. He continued embrace Maedhros with a firm arm around his back. The other slid down to his husband's rear, cupping gently and holding Maedhros lower down after he felt his displeasure at the loss of contact. "We should do this again sometime. And next time we should try me riding you!" Fingon kissed his husband again relishing the slight slide of skin on skin where Maedhros rested on him.

Maedhros nodded, less hearing and more feeling: yes this always all the time in all positions. He hugged Fingon, squeezing him tightly, unwilling to let go.

They rested for some time, until their skin began to stick together uncomfortably with Maedhros' release. Fingon could feel where his seed was dripping from his husband, and he reached down with curious fingers, proving the area. "We should probably, ah, get cleaned up. Especially if we're going to get back to the lake today." Fingon glanced at his husband who looked soft and relaxed. "Can I roll you over, darling? If you'd let me, I'd like to take care of you a little longer. Just relax and I'll clean you up and start packing the rest of our gear." He kissed the top of his husband's head. "Going to roll you over, darling. Unless you'd prefer I just slide out from under you?"

Maedhros rolled at Fingon's insistence, feeling stiff and a genuine ache forming. He groaned, but was smiling. "I'm all right. I can help."

“I know you can, love,” Fingon whispered. “But will you grant me one more thing this morning? Will you let me spoil you a little, like you always take such good care of me?” Fingon rubbed his shoulder gently as he sat up. “And I’ll need a hand-- or at least you’ll need to move when I get to the bedding. But I can start while you relax.” He gave Maedhros a quick kiss. “And you’re so open to me right now. It’s a treat, getting to feel you blissed out and relaxing. I’m… awed by you venno. And I love sharing your feelings right now.” He kissed Maedhros again and pulled away with a laugh, thinking that he could keep stealing kisses like this all day and never get anything done. “I’ll start cleaning up and come back with some water in a few minutes.”

Grinning, Maedhros settled, pushing away his desire to do something in favor of watching Fingon. He remained, as Fingon said, blissed and open, not even caring to cover himself, and basked in the warmth of afterglow contentedly. "Finno, you could make me lazy," he said, for he was enjoying himself like this. He couldn't remember the last time he was this relaxed.

Fingon laughed as he began stowing their gear. "A little laziness wouldn't do you any harm. And I quite like you like this. Though I also enjoy the times when you pamper me." He shrugged as he finished clearing up their breakfast and packing things into his bag and Maedhros'. He brought a fresh waterskin with him as he came back to begin stowing their pillow and the sheets Maedhros was not using. "Can you sit up for me?" He moved to hand Maedhros the waterskin before he began folding sheets. "Wait-- right there. Stop moving." Fingon studied him for a moment. "That. I want to paint you just like that. Laughing and relaxed on our summit in the morning. You're glowing, love, and your hair looks like a cross between fire and gold. I think I'll put it up in our house somewhere-- our bedroom, do you think? Or in a private room attached to the library?" He leaned in to kiss Maedhros and hand him a drink, mind still caught on the image of his lover-- acres of tanned skin, mussed hair, loose limbs, and an almost shy, delighted smile as he sat up. It was a picture that he was sure would keep him warm through even the coldest of nights.

"I--actually now?" He stammered, accepting the water gratefully. He was so relaxed that he spilled much of the water down his chin and chest, and laughed.

“I don’t have the paints I want to use,” Fingon paused and smiled, “but if you’re willing to let me sketch for a while…” He pulled out his own sketchbook and and pencils, settling on one of the rocks as he gazed at Maedhros. Anyvanya, he thought. Arivanya. He began sketching without really thinking-- half sketches to use as references when he decided exactly which picture he wanted to use for the painting. Oil paints, he thought, and a large canvas. It would require some sort of a decorated frame-- only the best, to surround and accent his husband. And he would need some sort of a liquid gold paint to capture the highlights in Maedhros’ hair. He continued sketching, soothed by Maedhros’ contentedness and completely focused on his work. His tongue stuck out as he focused on the page.

It was easy to hold still when he could feel Fingon's joy in drawing him, though he did laugh at Fingon's stupidly adorable tongue sticking out. "Finno, I should draw you right now. You look wonderful."

Fingon looked up laughing. His eyes danced as they met Maedhros'. "Do you want to? Really?" They both had their art equipment, and if Maedhros wanted he could draw him. "I think it would be easier than the last time you had me pose for you." They both felt a flash of desire at the memory. "But I'm happy sketching you if you want to relax. In fact, first, could you lie back for just a moment?" Fingon moved forward to lay Maedhros' hair out and then returned to his sketch, continuing to stand next to the bedding and look down at Maedhros. His tongue poked out again as his hand flew over the page.

"Ai, Findekáno," Maedhros sighed, pliant in Fingon's arms, "I want nothing, do not ask me!" he laughed, reaching his arms over his head and stretching, tangling his fingers in his own hair. "I am so happy right now, you could ask me to roll off this mountain and I would do so happily."

"Never," Fingon sputtered, pausing to look up. "I want you with me. And I know that we both have duties and will have projects and jobs that separate us, but as much as possible I want to be with you. I want to see you, to touch you, to be wrapped in yours arms and have you held in mine." He gave Maedhros a lopsided grin, finishing a final sketch and setting the book down. He knelt, straddling Maedhros, and reached up to kiss him. He couldn't have looked away from Maedhros' teasing stretch if he had wanted do. And he certainly did not want to. "Anvanya, vennonya. You take my breath away." He grinned. "See-- I can't even stand when you do things like this." Fingon leaned forward and caught Maedhros' mouth in a lingering kiss.

Maedhros kissed Fingon hungrily, surging up into his mouth and drinking him in with a desperation that said he was woefully neglected instead of so sexed he wasn't sure he could stand. "I love you, Finno," he breathed. "I--I want that, too. I am so happy whenever I am with you." He kissed him again, and brought up his knees and arms to lock Fingon close to him.

"This feels like our wedding again," Fingon said with a widening grin. "I simply cannot stop smiling. You are so beautiful you could outshine the Trees, I am blissfully happy, and I cannot stop smiling." He leaned into Maedhros' embrace, clinging to him happily. "Tyë melin."

"Tyë melin," he echoed, and they held each other quietly for a long time, until the Trees were at their brightest. "Now--are you ready to carry me down this mountain?" he teased.

"That's… probably not the best idea if we want to get down in one piece," Fingon admitted. He kissed Maedhros again. "But, to make up for not being able to carry you, I can pamper you utterly when we get back to camp, or when we arrive at the cabin. Will that work?"

Maedhros kissed him. "I was only joking. I'm perfectly capable of walking--in fact I think I could fly I am so happy." He sat up now, without even a wince, and reached for his clothes. "And you do not have to ask permission to pamper me--as I believe I have learned today, I think I do need to be _told_." He laughed at himself as he squirmed into his clothes and tied his hair back for the climb down.

They rolled up the last of the bedding, and after a final drink began the long trek down. “In some ways I think this is easier,” Fingon admittedas they began the rock climb. “The first part of the descent is the climb, so we get to get that out of the way first.” He started laughing. “And it’s all downhill from there!”

"That will never be a good joke," Maedhros said, but he smiled anyway. "Now be careful," he said, his hackles rising even from his previously relaxed state. "When you fell the last time it was going down just here."

“It wasn’t that I was going to fall, it’s that the ground decided to fall under me!” Fingon grinned, having little trouble this time. “And I think the area’s stable. At least, it looks fine this time.” Nevertheless he slowed a little until they were well past the spot and making their way down the rocky slopes towards the treeline.

They made their way down the dangerous part of the climb safely and were well into the woods when they paused for water: the way down was much quicker, and required fewer stops. "All right?" Maedhros asked, reaching out to touch Fingon's mind as he reached out to touch his hand.

Fingon was thinking about that morning, and about riding Maedhros like that in the early morning light. And he was thinking about their other plans-- about his husband’s fantasy, one of the few he shared with Fingon during their engagement. And as he thought about it the image of him straddling Maedhros and riding him turned to the two of them wrestling about the forest floor. Golden leaves were caught in Maedhros’ hair, and they tumbled, and rolled, and Fingon ran until he was tumbled onto a bed of gold and silver and crimson leaves, Maedhros trying to pin his nude form, to make him yield in this game. And he could imagine him taking Russ, Russ taking him, firmly and roughly, like it was their place, their right (and either way, it now was, now that they were bonded). He was walking without really thinking about it, mind focused on golden skin and red hair and wet, sweaty bodies tumbling to the ground and sliding against one another-- on hair filled with leaves and twigs and being _opened_ , being taken and begging Russ to let him do anything, to move, to push back into his thrusts as they rocked faster and faster.

One moment, Maedhros was following Fingon's mind and thoughts, a wicked smile forming on his face and his trousers tightening around his groin, and the next moment, Maedhros was flat on his face with his pack crushing his head.

"Shit!" he swore, flailing over and rubbing his nose, checking for blood. At least now his arousal was gone. "Ow, damn it, how did that even happen?"

“Russ!!” Fingon was startled from his pleasant thoughts as Maedhros dropped beside him, landing roughly. Fingon was on the ground beside him quickly. “Careful. Careful, melda. Here, let me see that.” Fingon tilted his head looking him over. “You’re going to have some splendid bruises at the very least. Are you alright, darling?” Fingon started attaching Maedhros’ pack to his own. They were lighter now, without wood or food and with most of their water gone. “Let me help you, is one of your ankles hurt?”

"No, no, nothing but my pride," Maedhros said, glad to find his nose hadn't bled. "Oh, and my hands," he hissed slightly and held out his palms to Fingon, showing him the light scraping they had received. "Oh my Valar, don't tell anyone about this, Fin!" he groaned, fumbling for water to wash his hands.

“What happened?” Fingon asked softly. He had been so lost in his own thoughts-- he blushed lightly, realizing he hadn’t been paying attention to where they were going let alone to his husband. He grabbed the water, pouring it over Maedhros’ hands. “I--I’m sorry, Russ. I was lost in my own thoughts. I should have been paying more attention to my husband,” he added with a small smile. “Especially if you’re going to be tripping.”

"I did _not_ trip! You distracted me--and--" he pointed, "that rock tripped me! Stop trying to take my pack, I'm perfectly all right," he said, waving away Fingon with an air of annoyance, embarrassed by his fall--and after he'd been fussing Fingon so!

“Sorry,” Fingon muttered. He supposed Maedhros had peaked through their bond and… not been expecting what he saw. Fingon sighed, taking a long drink before he retied the waterskin to his pack. “Are you ready to keep going?”

"Finno, come here, please?" Maedhros said. He was still sitting on his rear, but he took Fingon's hands, ignoring the light sting. "You all right? I'm sorry I snapped. I felt stupid for tripping after hounding you so much to be careful, and I snapped at you. I'm sorry." He pulled Fingon into a kiss, and opened his own mind and how aroused he had been--until a second ago--by his fantasy. "I was _distracted_ and should have been paying more attention to where I was stepping."

“I shouldn’t have been… ah, daydreaming. I suppose we have to get used to the possibilities of what we’ll see if we drop in unannounced, so to speak, with the bond.” Fingon shrugged, holding Maedhros’ hands carefully. “I’m sorry you’re hurt. Let’s get back to the lake, and we can jump in the lake or the hot springs if you think that would help.” He kissed the tip of Maedhros’ nose. “Shall we?”

"Perhaps," Maedhros said, for now his own thoughts and fantasies were forming, and all of them wicked. Woe to Fingon if he should drop in on his thoughts now! He would like a swim to cool down, and the hot springs to relax, and then a hearty dinner--and then--and then—

Fingon gave his cousin a sidelong glance. “Do I want to be peaking into your head right now? You look downright wicked, melindo.”

"It's because I am," Maedhros grinned, and showed him images of them hunting each other through the woods, chasing each other over meadows, and _then_ wrestling, and then pinning, tearing each other's clothes off, and then one taking the other, as passionately as roughly. Maedhros couldn't decide which fantasy was better, the one where Fingon ended up on top or the one where Maedhros did. He was still sorting out the rules--every game had to have rules--but he was certain the plan would be fully formed after dinner.

“Tha-that’s wonderful.” Fingon moaned softly, turning the images in his mind. He wanted that, wanted to fulfill his lover’s dream. He wanted to wrestle naked in a bed of leaves beneath trees and stars beside the water-- their own Cuiviénen. And his mind kept turning to the thought of Maedhros pressing him into the ground, or later back against a tree, and taking what was hid. “But first-- first we should get back. We need to get back.”

Maedhros nodded, taking Fingon's arm and picking up his pace. "Agreed. Now I cannot wait," he said, smiling.

They made their way back to their camp without further mishap, sometimes talking quietly, sometimes just feeling each other's mind, sometimes silent, and Maedhros was weary and glad to be back. He slid his pack off and toed off his boots. "Oh, that lake looks so inviting," he said suggestively.

Fingon grinned. “Help me set up camp first?” he asked. “Then I would love to go swimming with you.” They pulled out the bedding and what would be needed for dinner, and then Fingon started to strip down. And when they were both naked, Fingon grabbed Maedhros and lifted him in his arms. “I couldn’t carry you down the mountain,” he murmured, “but I think I can at least carry you to our lake.”

Maedhros let out an undignified squeal, but he locked his legs around Fingon's hips and his arms around his shoulders. "This is better, anyway," he said, and kissed Fingon.

“It is, isn’t it?” Fingon dipped a toe in the water to test it. “Still cool. I guess we’d best take it in one quick go.” And with that he ran forward into the water, still holding Maedhros tightly to him.

Maedhros shrieked as Fingon dove into the water with him, just managing a deep breath before the water closed over his head, and when they came up spluttering he was laughing. "Findekáno!" he cried, and crashed their lips together.

“Mmmm. Maitimo,” Fingon moaned. “Tyë melin. Are your hands alright?” He pulled Maedhros’ hand from around his neck so that he could check the cuts.

"Oh, yes, fine," Maedhros said. "Fine enough for my purposes tonight, anyway." He kissed Fingon again and then swam backwards a few strokes, the water cooling him and working out the potential for soreness. "What would you like for dinner? Since it might be the last decision you get to make this evening," he teased, grinning like a shark.

With a grin, Fingon paddled after him. Swimming was wonderful, especially after a long day of hiking and climbing. “Um… salad?” he suggested. “Do you want to fish? Or… I don’t even remember what food we left in the packs down here.” Fingon shrugged, at a loss, and ducked under the water.

Maedhros swam after Fingon for a little, and when they surfaced: "You're going to need something more substantial than salad, I think. We could fish. Would you like to fish?"

“Let’s fish,” Fingon nodded. “And set up a small fire. I’m _tired_ , but I still want… want we have planned for tonight. I just want to relax a little by the fire, cook some fish, eat a good dinner.” Fingon looked at Maedhros. “And then we run.”

Catching weariness on the edge of Fingon's mind, Maedhros grabbed him around the middle and pulled him toward the hot springs, gliding through the water. "We don't have to play tonight," Maedhros stammared, looking down at the water. "And I--and you were so gentle with me last night and today, I'm ashamed that I keep--wanting--"

“I want that,” Fingon said quickly, trying to assure him. “Don’t you remember what I was thinking about when you tripped?” he teased. “I love you. And I want that. And… and I _liked_ it when you took me roughly, Russ. I promised I want to do that again. And… if you want… I want to do that to you too?” Fingon moved closer to his husband, needing to touch him, needing to embrace him. After you… after you weren’t sure, I just had to make sure the first time didn’t hurt you at _all_. I had to make it gentle. I just… I’m sorry. I guess that was as much for me as it was for you. I trust you. And I want tonight. Please. He swallowed roughly.

Maedhros pulled them into the warm water and pressed their brows together. "I know, I know, Findekáno," he whispered, "and you were perfectly caring and perfectly gentle and if I yet had any limits to my trust in you, know that I no longer have any. I am, and always shall be, _sure_. And I will prove that to you," he vowed solemnly, and sealed it with a kiss. "Tonight, of course, I speak of a game. I think it will prove exciting and fun, and, ah, I have some things I want to try--" he shrugged and giggled, "only if I win, of course. I think I'm only nominally stronger than you, and you're much more adept at close-quarters wrestling, so we shall see."

“That’s because I spend so much time wrestling and sparring with Turko and Irissë.” Fingon grinned. “Now you _have_ to win, because I want to find out what you want to try.” He tilted his head and kissed Maedhros briefly. “Let’s set up the lines and move this to the spring?”

Maedhros grinned and kissed Fingon, slipping out of the water quickly to set up lines, still dripping and beginning to shiver. He grabbed their robes and towels and, taking Fingon's hand, they sprinting naked to the hot springs and splashed in. "Ah, better," he said, settling up to his chin.

“Brilliant!” Fingon slid onto Maedhros’ lap and kissed him. He shifted his hips as he settled, desire already building at their position. “Don’t know if I can do this, Russ. It’s already been… over a day since I’ve had you in me. I feel so _empty_. Do you think I can have you in me every day? Maybe you could wake me like you did before-- with you already moving in me, taking me. Would that please thee?”

Maedhros showed all his teeth when he grinned. "I'll take that as permission, then? Or is it an order?" he teased, squeezing Fingon's rear.

“Both?” Fingon wiggled against him. “That feels good,” he groaned. “More?”

"Mm, no," Maedhros said, stilling Fingon's hips. "We should both be desperate and wanting by the end of this night, I think, to give the game the proper motivation. What do you think?" he asked, kissing Fingon's nose. "I have a few other ideas, too, if you'll hear them."

“Please,” he whispered. “I would love to hear them.” Fingon wrapped his arms around Maedhros’ neck, combing though his hair lazily as he listened.

"Well I'd like to hear your input, too, but I am thinking we should start--well--first off, each should, ah, prepare himself beforehand, for we may not either of us have patience for safety when things get, ah, heated. Yes?"

Fingon’s eyes slid halfway shut. “May I use our marble toy?” he asked.

Maedhros grinned. "If you like, yes." He kissed over Fingon's eyelids and hugged him closer, his own arousal growing. "I am thinking we should start from camp and proceed in opposite directions for, I wasn't sure for how long. Some minutes--an hour? Five hundred paces?"

“Five hundred paces. And the then we can start the hunt. And if we don’t find one another within an hour… we both head back towards camp. And whomever finds the other first starts the hunt.” Fingon ground against him. “Is that acceptable?”

"Yes," Maedhros moaned, and bit his lip. "Only--once the 'catch' is made, it's still anyone's guess who comes out on top. Any holds barred? Hair, I think there should be a hair rule." He paused, thinking about that. "Or not..."

“No rules,” Fingon whispered. “I trust you.” He rolled his hips against Maedhros again, leaning in for a lingering kiss.

Maedhros sucked in a breath, and smiled. "And I, you. Except--" he growled, shoving Fingon off him to snap his legs closed and sit him sideways on his lap, "I do not trust you to not be squirmy when I told you we have to wait." He wasn't any help, however, because he immediately began nibbling on Fingon's neck.

“Hypocrite.” Fingon kissed his brow and then pushed away to the other side of the spring. “But yes. If you want to, we can wait. Do you think there’s anything on the lines yet?”

"The lake seems entirely unfished, so it's likely, yes. I'll check," he offered, sliding out of the lake. "Unless you're hungry now either way?" he offered Fingon a hand.

“I could eat. It’s been an active day. And I want to progress to our evening plans.” They stood and headed back to the lake at a more sedate pace, flushed from the spring’s heat as well as from desire.

"Are you going to last?" Maedhros teased, only because he was just as hard. He wore his robe open, steam coming off his body, which was--distracting on Fingon. He did not trip this time, but walked past the fishing lines and had to backtrack, which was almost as bad. They had two sizeable fish, which Maedhros prepared while Fingon stoked their fire.

Fingon prepared a small salad to go with the fish, and sooner than he had imagined they were eating, carefully not touching even as they devoured one another with their glances. “Are you ready? For tonight?” Fingon asked, shifting as he took a long drink.

Maedhros' grin spread as he cleaned up their dishes. "I am." He drank a lot of water, plenty to hydrate himself, and adrenaline was exciting him. He tried not to glance too obviously at his pack, for he had supplies he planned on using for this game (fully aware that if he lost and had the items taken from him they would be used against him) and wondered if he should say something now or just grab it when they started off. "Are you?"

“Now,” Fingon whispered. “Please. I don’t know how good I’ll be, though. I already need you so much. But… ah, stretch now, and then go?” He moved to the oil jar, intending to give Maedhros a show.

"Yes, ahh--" Maedhros had to rummage through his things for the toy Fingon had asked for, and he genuinely began to wonder if they would make it through this part. "Um, I do plan on wearing--something--trousers and boots at least--" and I hope you will too, because I want to tear your clothes off of you, he added silently.

Only if you win, Fingon teased back. Though he loved the idea of Russ grabbing him, dragging him by his plaits and ripping off his clothing. He planned to put on older travel clothes for this, things he didn't mind damaging should their passion result in it. He grinned, already thrusting fingers into himself as he accepted the marble toy from his husband. "It's not as good as you," he said. "But I think it's a good aid to help get me ready. I think I want bruises tomorrow, my Russandol. Will you mark me if you catch me? Will you claim me?"

"Will you, if you do?" Maedhros responded, coating his fingers and genuinely stretching himself, which still didn't hurt as much as he thought it would. He hissed as he worked himself open and wet. "I'm beginning to think you're going to let me win, Findekáno, and that will spoil the fun."

"I wouldn't want that," Fingon said with a laugh. "Don't worry-- if you win, you'll have to work for it," though his body was near desperate at the thought of Russ winning, "and yes, if I win I will." He grinned, pressing the marble deeper with a soft moan. "Either way, it will be a night to remember."

Now Maedhros' stomach fluttered, as much at Fingon's words and the images they evoked as the image before him of the toy disappearing into Fingon's body. "Okay," he said, turning away as he stood to pull on his own clothes and to gather a small pack.

"Already?" Fingon asked softly. He moaned, removing the toy and his entrance clenched around air. He dressed quickly in trousers and boots and a shirt so light it was barely there. "Are you ready?" He was almost desperate with desire. "Please?"

"Yes, and you'd better figure out how to run like that," he teased only because he too was likely to have a time of moving like this, at least until the thrill of the chase kicked in. He slung his pack on his shoulders and turned toward the higher ground. "Five hundred paces. I'll see you in an hour, melindo."

"Or sooner, doll," Fingon said with a grin. "Perhaps I'll find you before you know it. If you aren't on your guard you may be spending the first part of the evening pinned under me while I _use_ your hröa to sate my need." He grinned. "I'll see you shortly beloved. And Russ? Tyë melin."

Maedhros almost groaned at the thought, and,  "Tyë melin," he replied before setting off.

Fingon retreated his 500 paces and then began moving on a southern angle, not wanting to put the lake behind him. He moved silently, carefully scouring the area around him. He had taken the gold threads from his hair and now blended in with the dark browns and greens for the forest. Presently he kept watch for his lover or any signs of his trail.

Maedhros waited for Fingon to come to him. He enjoyed hunting, but he wasn't much of a tracker, and his hair did not help him hide much (it was loose) so he climbed a tree on the edge of the clearing and waited silently.

Time passed, and Fingon looped around to the other direction where Maedhros had headed, but could not find his husband. When close to an hour had passed he began making his way to the campsite, walking slowly as he picked up part of Maedhros’ trail. It appeared Maedhros may have come back directly the way he left, perhaps attempting to catch up with Fingon quickly before he disappeared into the forest.

 

Fingon didn't step right beneath him, but it was close enough, and Maedhros jumped down behind him, and he had a length of rope ready as he sprinted and dove on Fingon's back.

Fingon thrashed, and rolled, trying to buck his husband off. Adrenaline jumping, he twisted beneath him, trying to find a hold on Maedhros’ body. He growled, yanking at his cousin’s hair and kicking wildly.

The mistake was letting Fingon roll over and face him, but Maedhros fought valiantly, though Fingon, controlling him by his hair, rolled him over and pinned him to the ground. But Maedhros grabbed Fingon by the groin which distracted him enough that Maedhros could squirm out from under him. The woods were filled with the sound of grunting and struggling.

"Fuck! Russss!" Fingon growled and moaned, yanking at his cousin's hair and his trousers, trying to throw him off. He twisted under Maedhros managing to roll them, though they immediately rolled again with Maedhros on top. "Let me up, Russ! Either let me up or finish this and fucking fuck me!" He twisted his head, biting at Maedhros' neck large enough to leave bruises and imprints of his teeth, writhing under Maedhros and slipping in his grasp as they were both perspiring. And when he looked up he could see fallen leaves sticking to his husband's hair, and he brought his lips up for a fierce kiss that was more of a battle of teeth and tongues.

Maedhros kissed Fingon into submission, and when he was breathless, he grabbed the back of his shirt and hauled it over his head. As he hoped, the shirt caught on his wrists, and pressing Fingon to the earth with his legs and hips he bundled his shirt roughly around his wrists, hearing the shirt rip as he tied it. He huffed a laugh and bound the rope over the top, and once this was done, pinned his wrists over his head and kissed him again.

Fingon thrashed, bucking against him and fighting with feet and legs as he tried to squirm free. "Thought you wanted to rut Russ," he gasped. "Not just watch." He gave up squirming free for the moment and closed his legs around Maedhros. "More," he moaned. "Need something in me. Hard and fast. Pleeeease!" He opened his mind, willing and begging and pleading for his prince his lord his husband his everything.

"If you'll stop squirming I can--" Maedhros said, and pulling a tent stake out of his bag, he stuck it through the rope and pinned Fingon’s hands above his head. Just as quickly, he tugged Fingon's trousers around his ankles where they caught on his boots, and with an almighty rip he tore Fingon's breeches entirely off his body. "You'll get what I give you," he growled. Squirming down his body, pinning him at every point, he tied Fingon's ankles together with his torn breeches. "There," he sighed.

Fingon whined, bucking up plaintively. "Not what we agreed on," he complained. You were going to take me roughly, he thought. That's why we got ready. You're supposed to want me, to need me. We were going to chase and wrestle and _take_.

"I will," Maedhros growled, hefting Fingon's legs over his shoulder and prodding his entrance with a rough thumb. "I wanted you like this first--wholly under my power. This is what you do to me without any ropes or roughness," he panted, still testing Fingon's hole with his fingers, and quickly undoing his own trousers. "But I have you like this, I caught you, and I'm going to keep you, and I'm going to make you mine." He freed himself, already hard, and pressed within in one smooth movement.

Fingon's breath caught. He threw his head back, mouth opened and back arched-- entirely vulnerable, entirely, "yours!" he gasped, and then moaned. "Yours." Because he was, even before they had bonded, even before ropes, even before their betrothal. He was Maedhros' in every way his cousin, friend, husband would have him. " _Russ_!" He tried to shift his hips closer, tried to get more of his cousin inside him. His movements were still wild and almost violent, leaves pushed aside and ground into his back as he fought for leverage where he had none.

"Yes, mine," Maedhros said, his voice gentle and touch gentle as he petted Fingon's flank almost as he would a wild horse, which stood in contrast to how hard and fast he was taking Fingon, flesh slapping against flesh obscenely. "Finno, you have no idea how good you feel," he groaned, his hands wandering over Fingon's exposed body (everywhere but his leaking, needy sex), "and no idea how good you look. All trussed up like a young buck for the dinner table." He leaned forward, folding Fingon almost in half, panting, sweat dripping off his brow and falling on Fingon's chin: "If I'll never think of riding the same way again, you'll never think of hunting the same way."

With a needy whine Fingon tried to lean up to kiss his husband. Failing that his tongue darted out, trying to reach the drops or perspiration on his chin. “Never, never, Valar, Russ please!” He threw his head backward, trying to ground himself and hitting the forest floor roughly. Muscles straining he couldn’t move, couldn’t force anything though he _tried_. And he needed more. And he needed this. It was… he keened, unable to find thoughts to express what he felt tied up and pierced and fucked raw in the middle of the woods.

"Shh, shh," Maedhros soothed, slowing his force and speed to make sure he wasn't actually _hurting_ Fingon, and just enough to be awful and teasing if he wasn't. He carded his fingers through Fingon's hair and stuck his fingers in his mouth, pressing his tongue down. "I've got you, love, I've got you, my boy. Are you all right?" He spoke to his fëa, for Fingon would have trouble speaking like this (though it wouldn't keep him from making those cute needy little noises). "Do you think you'll be all right if I keep at you nice and rough? If you can be a good boy I'll have a present for you after."

He whimpered. At first Fingon tried to speak between the desperate sounds escaping him and around Maedhros' fingers, but soon gave up and sent what he needed to say, what he felt, across their bond. Want you to make me yours. Please. Please. Take meusemeplease! He turned his head to the side, breathing in the scent of leaves and dirt and he wished desperately that Maedhros would kiss him now but perhaps if he was good, perhaps later… he bit at his husband's fingers, trying to close his mouth, and still the sounds continued to escape him.

Maedhros grinned, lust and Fingon's wanton abandon and trust going to his head, along with the primal, rough, _realness_ of this, and he growled like some sort of wild thing, bracing moving his hand down to grip Fingon's throat, just enough to reduce the amount of air that could get in. "Going to make you mine, baby, going to make you feel so good. You think you can come without me touching you? I hope so, because it might be the last chance you get for a while." And with that, he pulled back and pounded into Fingon: long, hard, quick thrusts that they would both be feeling in the morning. He wasn't going to last long like this, so he changed his angle until Fingon was shrieking and bucking with each thrust as he hit that sensitive spot inside him, "Come for me, baby, I want you to come for me."

Fingon bit his lip hard enough to bleed, moaning and yelling as he released against his husband, against his prince who continued pounding into him through it. “R-R-Russ?” he managed shakily, needing Maedhros to release as well, desperate to have his seed within him. How had he gone so long without this? It had been… days. How had he lived without this? He needed, needed on a primal level and he begged, hröa and fëa alike, for his husband’s release.

And Maedhros followed, soon after, spraying hot and wet into Fingon's tight channel, shouting Fingon's name so loud is echoed off the trees until the woods were singing with it. He stayed like this, still inside Fingon, breathing heavily, until he felt he could see and move under his own power. "There, good, good, my darling good boy," he hummed, releasing Fingon's throat (it was red, and Fingon gasped when he released his hold), "so proud of you, I love you, tyë melin, tyë melin, such a good catch." He grinned, scooping up a bit of Fingon's seed that had struck his own chest and licking it, but he left most of the mess where it stuck on Fingon's chest and belly. "Such a messy baby," he chuckled, though his hands were rubbing over his skin gently, comforting. "But a good boy. You want your present for being so good for me?"

After panting for a few minutes, Fingon managed to focus on Maedhros again. “May I have my present?” he asked. “May I have it for being good for you?” He blinked up at Maedhros, moving his jaw and able to _feel_ the marks on his throat where Maedhros had been holding him.

Maedhros nodded, kissing the knees over his shoulder. " _So_ good. Tyë melin, Findekáno, arimeldanya. So proud of you. Love you." He ghosted his hands over Fingon's skin, holding himself close and still inside Fingon as he reached for his bag. With one hand he rummaged for the other toy he made: this one was glass, a bulb that tapered and then flared, a plug that, unlike the model phallus, would easily stay put. Without showing Fingon, he coated it with oil and pulled out, replacing himself with the toy without letting anything spill out. "There," he said slowly, still holding Fingon's legs off the ground. "There, you like that?" he asked, tapping the base of the plug.

Fingon cried out, nails scratching the ground and pulling at the binding. Whatever Maedhros had just shoved in him was cool to the touch-- cool and large and when Maedhros _hit_ it. He shuddered, suddenly unsure he would be able to survive this night. With the last bit of conscious thought he had, Fingon quietly, privately imagined paddling his husband while Maedhros had such a device in him. And he shook, body desperate to rise again but physically incapable of doing so immediately. “W-wha-what is that?” he whispered, hips circling as he tried to get used to the object inside him.

"Shh, shh," Maedhros said, stroking him and petting him. "It's something that's going to stay inside you for a little while," he said. "Is it too big? It's not as big as I am." He pressed against it, shifting it around inside of him. He laid Fingon's legs down carefully and slid over the top of him, kissing him gently. "It will keep you nice and wet for me, for later. How do you like that?"

“I-- I don’t. I can’t--” Fingon tossed his head, unable to think. And he threw open their bond, hoping to leave Maedhros as wrecked as he was in this moment. He didn’t want to think or move or do anything except lie here and wait until Maedhros was wanted to take him again. And he could just slide out.. whatever was inside him, and slide in instead. He whimpered, tongue slipping out to taste the blood on his lips.

"Mm, damaging my property, are we?" Maedhros said, licking up the blood. "Don't do that." He pulled the stake from the earth, freeing Fingon's arms (though not untying him) so he could gather him up, pulling him off the leaves and dirt and sticks and into his warmth. "Mm, I love you like this, soft and delicious in my arms, well-fucked and mine." He kissed him tenderly. "Going to take you home with me, just like this."

“Like this?” Fingon looked up at him with wide eyes, legs and arms still tied and body filled with Maedhros’ release. “Yours,” he agreed. “All yours. Even if you cheat.” The last was said with a cheeky, albeit tired, grin.

"Almost like this," Maedhros said, kissing him where he pleased. "And I do not cheat: I caught you and I intend to keep you. Now," he rummaged through the shirt until he could see that Fingon's hands were not tied too tight or too loose. Fingon could make a fist, so he considered him safe, and tugging his trousers back up for him he laid Fingon down to kiss him. 

Fingon shook at the combination of cruelty and tender care, at the way he was now stuffed and bound. "Still cheating." He grinned around a broken moan. "Y-you showed me thoughts of chasing each other through the forest, running and wrestling and claiming. And instead you laid in wait, trapping and binding and stuffing. Which is still good-- I like it," he added quickly. "I like pleasing you, but that doesn't change the fact that you were afraid I would be the better tracker and ultimately the better wrestler, so you cheated." Fingon's eyes danced with laughter at the logic he had just come up with and the idea that he was now a 'threat'-- a potential equal-- to Maedhos. The final thought was what had him filling with desire, forcing his body to begin to respond.

"Of course I cheated," Maedhros said, and he tried to sound bold and indignant, but in this moment he was more vulnerable than Fingon. "I am as yet--unaccustomed to your coming of age--and anyway I am a strategist. I leave the hunting and the chasing and the wrestling to my betters. In the meantime..." he untied Fingon's feet and gathered his things to head back to camp. "Stand up and follow me. Oh. Sorry." He returned to pulled up Fingon's trousers first, tucking him in and tying the laces snugly.

Fingon inhaled sharply and quickly moved to follow Maedhros. "If you told me we were playing a game of strategy I would have played a bit differently, melda. Then again we may not have found each other until morning." He grimaced as he moved, his discomfort increasing with every step, and he was very grateful that Maedhros had chosen a spot to hide that was close to their camp.

Maedhros smiled warmly as he watched Fingon walk: "Go on, walk in front of me. You're so beautiful like that."

Walking forward with a yelp, Fingon glanced back at his husband. Present? He thought incredulously. Maedhros' 'present' was a gift for himself, not for Fingon. Though he couldn't deny a small thrill at being able to cause the desire and giddy pleasure he felt across their bond. "This pleases you?" he murmured.

"It does, very much," Maedhros growled, reaching forward to squeeze his round and tempting backside, and leaned in to kiss his neck and wrap his arms around his naked chest. "Does it not please you? If not the sensation in this--" he tapped the plug "we could perhaps make a larger one--but if not that, then at least at belonging so wholly to me? Does that not please you?" His voice was sultry, but he began to feel apprehension about the game.

"Of course it does," Fingon whispered. He wanted to turn around, wanted his arms free to hold Maedhros. "It's... not easy to walk, but of course I feel pleasure. And not only from the bond. I'm just beginning to think that you planned this--ropes and toys and me trussed up like this--as a gift for yourself. You've been sharing, consciously or not, and... Valar, Russ. How are you ready to go again so soon? Will you? Take me, that is?" He moaned as Maedhros mouth moved over his neck, hands tracing over him while he could do nothing but walk continue walking forwards and beg.

"I will--and I do want you--and every day I have you in my arms you are a present for me. This way is just--a little more interesting." He grinned and grazed his teeth over Findekáno's shoulder. He was now walking behind Fingon, with his arms around Fingon's chest and holding his bound wrists. His arousal, already prominent, pressed against Fingon's back and for once Maedhros wished their sizes were not so different so that he could press against the plug. "And if you can _say_ with such coherence that you are feeling pleasure, then you are not feeling enough pleasure..." he growled, peering into Fingon's open mind for what he needed to properly wreck him.

Fingon stumbled as he felt Maedhros entering deeper into his mind. He _wanted_ desperately, because of his husband's words and thoughts as much as because of the physical sensations. But his body was still weary from their last exertion, and he feared that if he lost any more control he would not be able to think in order to follow directions-- he certainly wouldn't be able to walk while struggling between the feelings of too much and needing more. And that let him ground himself and keep control of himself, if only barely, because there was nothing he feared so much as disappointing Maedhros.

"You _won't_ disappoint me, love. You never will, do not even be afraid of that," he whispered, kissing behind Fingon's ear and stopping them from going forward. "I want you to feel good, I want you to feel so good you cannot walk, or see, or hear or think." Holding his bound wrists in one hand to pin him, Maedhros reached down to palm at the front of Fingon's trousers, rubbing firmly but carefully. "You should get a look at how I've tied you. Very beautiful." As he rubbed and as he spoke, he nudged his knee in between Fingon's legs to press gently against the plug. "How does that feel?" he asked, nipping at his ear.

He let go. "Nnghn!" Fingon's hips bucked and his knees bucked though he found himself safely trapped against Maedhros' stronger form. "Russ!" He shrieked his lover's name, head turning back and forth against Maedhros' chest. It wasn't fair, how Russ could so undo him, and how he so delighted in undoing him while they were in the middle of something like trying to get back to camp. He strained against the ropes binding him and the trousers restraining him, desperate for room to move and for friction where he needed it. He felt like he was being pulled apart both outside and within. "R-ruu..."

"That's it, that's it," Maedhros chuckled, though his heart (and his cock) swelled at Fingon's reaction. "Good, love you like this," he hummed, squeezing Fingon gently but insistently from both sides. "I've got you, going to make you crazy for it, going to make you mine in every way," he whispered, kissing and sucking bruises on Fingon's neck.

Yours, Fingon thought desperately, body arching and collapsing repeatedly within the confines of his husband's grasp. "P-pplea," he choked, but soon couldn't speak. And everything around him turned to Russ-- the pressure within him, the warm chest he rested against, the hands tormenting him, the arousal pressed tightly against his back.

Maedhros finally took mercy on his beloved and slid his hand up to splay over his belly instead, rubbing it in soothing circles, though his knee still rocked into the plug, shifting it inside him in a slow rhythm. "Do you think we could get a plug that was a bit more life-sized? This one's not that large, only a few inches, just enough to keep you open and wet. I could make one that was more, ah, life-sized, and I could stick that in you and we could go for a walk. Maybe in the gardens at grandfather's house, or down to market, and no matter how you tried to distract yourself you'd still feel it _in_ you, more than this. And I could probably put my hand here and feel it inside you. Wouldn't that be fun?" Finally he reached up to grab Fingon's neck and turn his head so he could kiss him possessively, before pulling away, though he stil held Fingon's wrists in one hand to make sure he didn't fall as he tugged him forward. "Let's keep going," he said, smiling.

Fingon stumbled, legs shaking and unable to even answer his husband. He moaned, unable to contemplate walking around with _more_ inside of him. It felt huge when he moved, larger than Maedhros seemed to be saying it was. And he was desperate, every movement coming close to driving him mad. But they were almost at camp and he could hear the lake and he needed something, anything, but not with the rope restraining him, stopping him-- he needed to finish. Or for Maedhros to begin something that would lead to them finishing.

"Good, boy, look at you, such a good boy, so proud," Maedhros said: "Look at you walking," he praised, though Fingon's legs were visibly shaking and it was adorable more than it was impressive by any count. But he caught Fingon's gaze even as he blushed and "I love you," he said seriously: "Tyë melin. You are beautiful. Thank you." The bed was even in sight now, and Maedhros made a beeline for it, though part of him wanted to walk Fingon around the lake like this. "Can you talk to me?" he asked.

Fingon opened and closed his mouth but no sound came out. He tried again, and then a third time, leaning heavily against his husband. “V-Ven-Venno.” _R-Russ_! he thought. And even thinking in words was beyond difficult. And he wanted to ask what next, what Maedhros would have of him, but he could barely think, let only speak or project to Maedhros. And when he tugged on their bond, rather than grounding him, it only filled him with still more need and desire and heat.

"Hey, hey, you're okay, you're okay," Maedhros shushed Fingon softly, and wrapped his arms around him again as they continued walking, small, laborious steps. "I just want you to tell me what you want, meldanya. Don't worry, I'll take care of you, I promise, but I want to hear what you need right now." He kissed his brow tenderly, coaxing him out. "You can do it, come on."

Looking up at him with wide eyes, Finno focused on where Maedhros had kissed his brow, where he still felt the imprint of impossibly soft lips on his skin. “W-want to p-please you,” he whimpered, eyes tearing. “Just, just w-want-”

"Don't cry love, hush," Maedhros said, his hands rubbing over smooth skin, gentling. "You do please me, always. Does it hurt? Are you in pain? Do you want to stop?"

Fingon shook his head, a tear escaping down his cheek. "Just… intense. C-can'tthink." He finished with a breathy "please," leaning into his husband's touch. It felt like he was burning everywhere Maedhros' hands touched him, but it was a good burn. It felt as though Maedhros would destroy him completely and then rebuild him, leaving him more and stronger and exactly what his husband wanted.

Here Maedhros stopped, sweeping Fingon into his arms and kissing his hair softly. "You can tell me if you need to stop, right? I mean, are you able to?" He kissed Fingon's cheekbone. "Just the softest whisper in the depths of your heart and I will stop, and I will still be very happy with you. Understand? I just want to see how far we can go. Do you want to see that?"

Fingon smiled against him. Want what you want, he thought. Yes. Yours. He sighed, cheek burning with Maedhros’ butterfly’s kiss. “Yesss,” he sighed, so quiet the words were lost almost as soon as they left his lips.

"Going to take good care of you," Maedhros whispered, "and every time we play this game you're going to lose on purpose because you like it so much, you like being mine, don't you?" He carried him like this, like a small child, to the bed and sat down, with Fingon still on his lap (the plug was accidentally resting on his leg), and proceeded to kiss him senseless.

Up became down and everything seemed to be spinning around except for Russ-- perfect, strong Russ who stood at the center of the universe, the only calm in a storm. Fingon clung to him as desperately as a scared child might. “Mhmm,” Fingon answered. “Yours.” It was what Fingon had always been; it was what he always wanted to be.

"Mine, yes," Maedhros agreed, petting Fingon's hair. "Can you still make a fist for me?" It took a little longer this time, but Fingon's hands were still pink and healthy. "Good boy, so good for me. All right, we're going to get started. If I sat you down, you think you would be okay? Not fall over?" he checked.

“Try,” Fingon whispered. I’ll try. He shifted, attempting to steady himself to see if he could while still in Maedhros’ lap. He flushed at Maedhros’ words, and felt even more heated, arousal pressing painfully against his bonds.

"There we are, good. So proud of you," Maedhros said as Fingon straightened on his own. "Now here's one you may need help with, and that's okay. Do you think you can get out of your trousers? I'd very much like to just watch, but I am also happy to help." He smiled magnanimously, and also lecherously.

“A-ahh…” Fingon brought his hands down, trying to pull at the laces. He loosened the top of his trousers, then fiddled with them for a few minutes, unable to accomplish anything. Finally he looked up at Maedhros sadly. His pants were bunching awkwardly, and he had hair was sticking to his face as he raised his head. “Help?”

Maedhros had to put up an effort to look _less_ pleased without looking disappointed, and gently and lovingly pulled his trousers down to reveal his angry-red cock standing straight, and the crystal plug sparkling out of his backside. "Oh, you look delicious, Findekáno," Maedhros said, "but I'm afraid I'll have to leave your trousers there, around your ankles. Stuck on your boots, I can't do much," he said sadly.

Fingon toed at his boots, but again accomplished little. “Please?” He begged. ”Will you help?” He was already feeling incredibly exposed, and was not sure how to move or what to do.

"I will if you want me to, but I rather like you like this," Maedhros said, running his fingers through Fingon's hair. "I'll tell you what: if you can make it to the other side of the bed where you left your things, on your hands and knees, get your golden hair wires, and bring them to me in your mouth, I'll help you."

Fingon lumbered across the bed slowly, hands tied and half dragging his bound feet. He knew he was swaying, and knew Maedhros’ eyes were on him. He chewed his lip as he imagined the sight he made, stuffed open and shuffling slowly. He swallowed, and found the wires, ducking his head to bit them. He made it almost back to his husband before he fell, bound arms slipping in the sheet as he focused more on Maedhros than on where he was placing his arms. Fingon let out a high pitched noise as he landed on his face and on his sex, immediately throwing himself onto his side and curling up instinctively, trying to remember how to breathe. He closed his eyes, shaking.

"Oh, Finno!  Valar Damn it," Maedhros swore, arousal killed immediately by the sudden unexpected wave of pain, scooping Fingon into his arms and holding him close, kissing him. "Are you all right? I'm sorry I wasn't watching you closer. I'm so sorry. Here, let's take this out--" He reached between Fingon's legs and gently removed the plug, tossing it aside for cleaning later, and with shaking hands freed Fingon's wrists and ankles. "I'm so sorry. Let me--do you need--?" he wet a washcloth with cool water and laid it over Fingon's sex, since they had no ice or anything to reduce swelling.  

Fingon gritted his teeth and shook his head, still trying to curl in on himself. He was an idiot--he should have been paying attention to where he was placing his arms--but Valar, it _hurt_. He tucked himself closer to Maedhros, even now trusting (as he ever had as a child) that his cousin would help to ease his pain.

"Not an idiot," Maedhros whispered, kissing his hair. "I'm sorry. We're stopping for now, I'm sorry," he said quickly, tightly. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry you d-didn't--" (enjoy _any_ of this?) "I was unfair. We didn't--talk about this before and I--I can't believe I--Finno, I'm so sorry. I am so sorry I let you get hurt." He swallowed hard. "We don't ever have to do that again. I'm sorry."

Admittedly Maedhros had thrown Fingon’s plans out when he brought bondage into it--Fingon had imagined possibly turning the tables as Maedhros fought with their clothes, or at least rearing up after the first round and chasing his husband through tree and brush. But it wasn’t bad. And he loved being with Maedhros. He squeezed his husband tightly. "But I _want_  to," Fingon argued shakily. "I--I enjoyed it. I want to give you everything. I just… wasn’t expecting that. I just... I guess we should talk more before," he muttered. Sorry. Sorry. But you did say you had things you wanted to try... I didn't know what you meant. He shivered and pressed closer to Maedhros. "I guess I'm bad at surprises. But I _do_  want to try something similar again. Just... I'll know what we're doing before. Even if there are smaller surprises included," he added, looking up hopefully. I don't want to ruin everything. Or even anything. "And I hurt myself, Russ," he added quickly. "You wouldn’t hurt me. Do you blame me for you tripping when we were walking back this afternoon?” He winced as he shifted against Maedhros and he felt his abused entrance and Maedhros’ seed shift with him. “You were unfair, which was sort of mean, but that’s… It’s… it’s fine. I’m here, with you, and you’re taking care of me. Please don’t be sad. Please don’t regret us being together, even if there were mistakes and accidents this time.” He looked up at Maedhros, tracing the curve of his jaw with his thumb. “I’m sorry I ruined your plans, melda. What do you need? What would make you happy? Do you want to try again, right now?” Fingon didn’t think his body could at this point. He just wanted to sleep. But if it would help Maedhros…

"What? No!" Maedhros shouted, crushing Fingon against him in an embrace as if that could assuage the guilt threatening to crush him from the inside out, like a star collapsing. "How could I?" The thought of desire made him physically ill with Fingon in this state, and yet somehow Fingon seemed to _want_ him to still want to...even though _he_ didn't want... "Stop saying that, please!" And there were the tears, though he had no reason, no excuse, to be crying. "I'm so sorry, Fin. I need you to tell me what I--what you need. What I need to do to make the hurt stop," he finished lamely. You don't even have to say it out loud. I want to take care of you. Need to make it better.         

Fingon squeezed them together, awash with Maedhros’ fear and needing to touch him, to press them together so that every possible inch of skin was touching. “We both did things wrong,” he whispered, head tucked into Maedhros’ shoulder. He pulled back enough to try to wipe the tears from Maedhros’ cheeks. “I’m sorry. I messed up too. I trust you. No matter what. Just… all you need to do is love me. Just keep doing what you’ve been doing since I was born.” He pressed his closed lips against his cousin’s, wanting the extra point of contact and beginning to tear up himself. Perhaps more notice would have been good, at least after the first part? Even though it had been good. But Maedhros took care of him and everything was beautiful again with Maedhros around him and within him, holding him close, hröa and fëa, and loving him.

"I love you, I do love you, I love you more than my life," he gasped. "And I'm sorry I was not--" I'm new at this, too, he wanted to say, but that was no excuse. "You deserve better. I love you. I am so sorry. You did not mess up. I did. I did not watch you close enough. You trusted me with _everything_ and I failed you." Why do you love me? he wanted to ask, but that was wrong, too.

How could I not? Fingon’s thought was immediate and loud and encompassing. “I _love_ you. You are the best thing in my life and I love you.” His mouth curled in a small smile and he peppered kisses across Maedhros’ face. It was easier this way--comforting Russ was something he didn’t need to think about. It came as naturally as breathing. Because of everything in Fingon’s life, Maedhros was that which most needed to be protected. “You’ve never failed me,” he added softly. “You never will. You can’t. You won’t. I…I was just confused and I got scared. I didn’t understand what you wanted. I don’t want to let you down. That’s… that’s on me, Russ. That’s hardly your fault. Forgive me?” He gave his husband a watery smile. “Because this is our honeymoon and I very much want to wake up wrapped safely in your arms.” And he still didn’t know quite why Maedhros chose him, why he wanted him. If either of them were undeserving it certainly wasn’t Maedhros. But he would cling to Maedhros for as long as he could (forever, he meant). And he would be a happier Elda, and a better one for it.

"Forgive me instead," Maedhros insisted, choking on a sob in order to laugh. "There is nothing to forgive you." He kissed Fingon on the brow, trying to wipe his tears away. "I am sorry I scared you. I will be more clear in future play," though his stomach clenched to even think of such a game again, the image of Fingon falling and hurting himself seared into his memory. "And please, please, Findekáno, do not doubt yourself, and do not doubt my love for you. At all. You should never be afraid of me in such a way." 

Fingon had been so worried--and why? There was no real reason for it--though he could admit to himself he wouldn’t have been in the mood for any further play. Not if he was certain he had failed his husband. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said with a small laugh. “But I would forgive you anything and everything. Only, will you smile for me, darling?” He met Maedhros’ gaze offering a small smile of his own. “And… unless you want to do more--and we can, just tell me--could we pull up the blankets?”

"No, no," Maedhros said. "Not tonight. We should--well--" he wasn't sure he would sleep, but he pulled up the blanket and "I want to hold you," he said, and he smiled. "I do not always trust myself, Findekáno, but I always trust you. And I know for certain that you will not fail me--ever. And if you do not believe in yourself, believe in my belief in you." And now the smile was maybe genuine.

“That I can do.” Fingon grinned and tugged the blanket slightly higher. Maedhros looked at him, so Fingon yanked the sheet higher still, until they were covered under white fabric in their own private world. He laughed, and though he moved carefully he managed to lift a leg and wrap it around Maedhros’. “I love thee,” he whispered. “And I trust you.” Forgive me if I made it seem otherwise. And that is something I would indeed need forgiveness for.

"Then you have it," Maedhros said, and kissed him. "I love thee, vennonya."

“Tyë-melin.” Fingon stole another kiss. “Hmmm. I dearly love the stars--oh, and our fallen stars! We haven’t even looked for them tonight. But I also like this--just being in our own little world, nothing here except for you and me. Do you remember helping to build tent caves when I was little? We had an entire city through one wing of the house for an afternoon!”

"I remember your mother almost beating me for stealing all her sheets," Maedhros laughed, "for I think I took the fall for that one." He held Fingon close: "It is simpler in here," he said, "and more beautiful than all the stars." He gazed at Fingon, taking comfort in his eyes, beautiful and free from pain.

“You are,” Fingon whispered, a tint of pink dotting his cheeks at Maedhros’ praise. “May I ask thee something? Just a request--one you are free to allow or deny, I promise I won’t be upset either way.”

"Anything," Maedhros breathed, eager for an opportunity to atone: the awfuller the better.

Fingon paused, sensing something in his lover’s tone that made him weary. But he wanted was not much, and was nothing they had not each offered freely. “I’d like to be close to you.” He glanced at their bodies, without a hair’s width of separation between them. “Even closer. May I… if you wish I would invite you into my fëa, as far as you wish to go.” Even though the idea left him a little nervous this night. But he would rather share-- he wished to be as close to one with Maedhros as he could before they slept. “Would you allow me to do the same?” He watched Maedhros, mentally nudging their bond and holding it open, as one my push a door open halfway in invitation.

Maedhros shuddered, but nodded. If he let Fingon entirely into his fëa, he might truly learn who was to blame--which was frightening but also a relief: And he showed him what he had envisioned for the night (with disappointment only for himself): play until their hröar were exhausted: denying Fingon for his pleasure, titillating in context though now he could not but feel ill at the thought of it, his stomach clenching at how little he deserved the reverence and desire he would have commanded of Fingon. He catalogued systematically each step Maedhros did wrong to prevent this from becoming a reality: springing the game on Fingon without talking to him, without giving him a choice first; jerking him back and forth between trying to unmake him and trying to get him to focus; forcing him to walk so encumbered, forcing him to crawl like that just for the sick pleasure in watching him, until he fell. (All this mixed with I'm sorry, sorry, you see how unworthy I am, who are you to think you married up?) And then his gratitude to Fingon, for loving him anyway. Fingon's love might have meant less to someone who was better for him. But Maedhros' gratitude was endless for how much was forgiven him. And he loved Fingon with all of him, and he only wanted to make him happy, and how he wished he could be better at this, or that Fingon might tell him since he was apparently so thick-headed. And he was open and raw because he had let Fingon so far in, and he apologized for that, too, for being over-sensitive, and he couldn't believe Fingon was the one comforting _him_ after all that had happened (and yet he was grateful for it). At his core, all that was left of him was an I love you.

Fingon was torn between shock and horror and an intense need to comfort, to cherish, to fix this. And as he was pulled further into Maedhros he was revealed to him in turn. He loved the idea of making love with Maedhros until they couldn’t move. And if Maedhros wished to make him work for it--how could he ever deny him? He shared his confusion and hurt as Maedhros demanded two different things at once and his body and mind were torn between them. But he also shared the intensity of it, the joy of feeling Maedhros’ pleasure as he watched Fingon walking. And he reminded his husband that he had wanted to be tied before--to let him let go, to hold him off without Fingon having to focus on not finishing. And when he slipped--and he shouldn’t have, he was far more coordinated than that--the pain and the need to be in Maedhros’ arms, knowing with a child’s belief that his cousin could make anything better. Together with it all was his desire to please Maedhros, his focus during their chase, or hunt, or whatever ended up being, wishing to show his cousin he could almost be his equal in this with all his extra training with Turko and Irissë.

In an avalanche of feelings and memories he almost buried Maedhros with how he looked in Fingon’s eyes. He was younger, caring for Fingon and later holding Ambarussa up and spinning them above his head. He was tutoring Curufin and then helping Maglor tune an instrument, he was sitting alone reading or helping his grandfather. He was pushing Fingon behind him, trying to protect him from anything, and dancing around the kitchen when he thought no one was watching as he cooked. He was tall and elegant at parties, a careful diplomat but also genuinely interested in those around him, including every child he met. And he had time for anyone who needed him, friends or family, adults or youths or toddlers. Fingon showed him how beautiful he had looked on their wedding day, eyes shining and dancing, and how noble he had looked standing before their grandfather. He reminded him of how incredible he felt dancing with Fingon behind a tree in the twilight. He showed Maedhros how he often tried to emulate his cousin in thought and deed, how Maedhros taught him how to be an older brother, a good cousin, and a worthy friend. And he offered to his cousin how safe he felt here and now, how well Maedhros settled him and cared for him. How he didn’t mind what they did, how he would willingly do something similar in the future. And how desperately he loved his cousin. How terrified he was to be parted from him. How good he felt at this moment, joined so closely with him.

Maedhros was shaking his head at first, trying to deny this image of him, but the images just kept coming, and by the end he was almost in tears again. "Oh, Findekáno," he breathed. "I'm s--" he started to say, but Fingon didn't want to hear that, so, "Thank you. I love you." He didn't deserve Fingon, but he didn't want to hear that, either. He wrapped Fingon in his arms, kissing him softly. "Thank you." He no longer felt ill or ashamed, anyway, and he shared that with Fingon, leaving himself open to see how thoroughly the balm that was Fingon's love soothed him. He stroked his fingers across Fingon's face as if he would memorize the feel of it, as he gazed into those perfect, comforting eyes. "I love you. You are so perfect. I am ever only a reflection of your beauty, your perfection. You are my entire inspiration. Thank you, Findekáno. I love you." He paused, swallowing thickly. "Are you comfortable? May I clean you? May I sing to you?"

“I’m very comfortable. And if you want to, I would like that. And please. You have the most beautiful voice, beloved, and I would dearly love to hear you sing.” Fingon answered each question, and tilted his head into Maedhros’ hand. I love you, he thought. And Maedhros’ thoughts were so beautiful he was tearing up again but how could he not when he could hear and feel how his husband thought of him? It was humbling, and Fingon held Maedhros tightly and whispered quiet words of devotion in return.

"I love you," Maedhros echoed, kissing Fingon's brow, and his lips, his neck, his chest, all the way down until he had his arms wrapped around his legs and could see to the damage--except Fingon wasn't damaged, he was just messy and a little red--and pressed his tongue flat and gentle over his hole as if to stop the mess, and he cleaned him thoroughly, reverently, in this manner, peppering his skin with kisses as well as with little licks.

Fingon shivered against him, hands shifting to cup Maedhros' head gently. "Russ," he sighed. It could easily have been too much, but his husband was gently and careful, tending to his hröa diligently. "Thank you," he whispered, one hand dipping lower to caress Maedhros' hair and upper back. Thank you.

When Fingon was clean, Maedhros kissed his way back up Fingon's body, echoing Thank you, thank you, thank you for letting me, thank you for thanking me, and he bundled his husband up in his arms. "Love you," he whispered, kissing his brow and holding him. "Thank you. I love you. Will you sleep?"

"You were going to sing to me," Fingon said with a yawn. "But I'll sleep. Stay with me?" He plastered himself against Maedhros, eyes already closing. "Thank you. Love you," he added with another yawn.

"Darling," Maedhros said. "Of course I'll sing," he said, his heart melting at how _precious_ Fingon looked when yawning like that, and at how his eyes closed in such trust. "I love you, too, venno." And as he brushed his lips over Fingon's hair, he began to hum their song. They had since come up with ornamentations and variations to the otherwise simple tune, and one day Maedhros meant to rewrite the lyrics, only he hadn't yet, so he sang the original words, which spoke of a love that--this was the only part Maedhros would keep--would last until the end of the world. Maedhros remembered stars, and Fingon breathing, and cold except for where their bodies pressed together, and the tune. He did not remember when he fell asleep.

Fingon settled into sleep comforted by Maedhros' voice and arms and, to the last, trying to hold their bond wide open and blanket Maedhros with love and happiness. He woke first, and smiled at the sight Maedhros made, hair frizzing out around him and body sprawled trustingly before him. He kissed his husband's lips gently, then swept them over his brow. Fingon could hear something in the back of his mind, and he couldn't stop the wide grin stretching his face as he recognized their song playing through Maedhros' dreams. His cousin was still deeply asleep as Fingon sat up and stretched and, feeling light and rested and alive, walked to where the cold stream met the lake to catch some fish to add to their breakfast. He was sore (again), but it was a soreness he would happily grow accustomed to. Humming their song, still hearing whispers if it across their bond, Fingon set up his lines at sat to watch the light dancing a across the lake as the silver and gold of the Aldu reclaimed the valley.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The newlyweds enjoy a last day in their valley before heading for civilization... er, make that heading for their vacation cabin where the can enjoy the comforts of Noldor technology while still being in the wild.

Maedhros woke with an undignified snort to find his arms were empty. Disoriented, he had little idea where he was, but Fingon was not here and that was not how he fell asleep. He sat up, limbs flailing, only to see Fingon sitting just a little ways away with a fishing pole--though he was more hunting than fishing, stepping low and quiet and casting his hook ever so softly into the water. He was also naked. Maedhros grinned.

Fingon grinned, feeling eyes on him, and he closed his eyes and focused his attention on imagining how he would have enjoyed waking his husband up if he wasn't trying to put together breakfast. His eyes danced as he felt Maedhros' arousal thrum through him before he turned around.

Maedhros was shocked as Fingon projected into his mind the thought of Fingon being already inside him before he woke, and blushed, though even he was already growing weary of his own attempts to be a massive prude. He grinned warmly back at Fingon, and since Fingon seemed not to need any help (and seemed to want him to stay in bed?), Maedhros lay back again, snuggling into the blankets. He had slept rather late, and the light of the Trees shone brightly.

I think I would like that very much, he told Fingon, but he was blushing across the bond. He was very glad he could still feel and hear his cousin from this distance. He did not want to test the range any time soon.

Hmmm. Fingon cast his line again. What else would you like? He sent a flash of a vision to Maedhros, where his husband woke. And in his daydream Russ realized a few things in quick succession-- first that Finno wasn't with him. Then that he couldn't move his hands or his feet much as each limb was bound to trees since there wasn't a headboard handy. He'd realize he was both naked and quite aroused. And then that the plug he'd had in Finno was filling him. And that Fingon was thinking dirty thoughts while he tried to catch some fish for breakfast, sending emotions and dreams to keep him aroused until he woke, and to torment him once he was conscious. Fingon let the idea waft gently over to Maedhros, curious if it was something he would like, or if it would be an unhappy realization to wake and find he could not move and a game was already ongoing. Yes? he asked. Or if Maedhros didn't like it that was fine-- he had books worth of other ideas. And he did not want his husband to do anything he didn't especially enjoy.

Maedhros squeaked in mixed alarm and joy and arousal, his hand going instinctively to cup his groin, feeling himself already filling. His other hand he clapped over his mouth, though not before an audible groan followed the squeak. Amidst the 'fuck the valar' and other surprised but in no way displeased obscenities came a wanton 'fuck yes Finno please when' before he clamped down on those, too. He rolled over and pulled his knees up, clutching himself.

Fingon paused, head thrown towards the sky and back arched as he let Maedhros’ reactions flow through him. “Ruuuuusss!” He groaned loudly, making no attempt to hide his reaction. Would you like that? He sent, breath catching. Waking up trussed up and stuffed and waiting for me to come and fill you with my seed? Ready for me get back and see that you’re awake, for me to slide that beautiful glass toy out of you and without a pause thrust in? Fingon managed to catch a second small fish, and he began making his way back to the small fire and their cooking setup. “Enjoying yourself arimeldanya?” he asked, taking a small detour to lean in and press their lips together in a lingering kiss, his free hand winding through Maedhros’ hair.

Maedhros nodded, wishing to hide his desire but not closing himself off. "Mm. Mm-hm," he said noncommittally, still hoping his arousal might go away.

"Would you like some fish hash for breakfast? I woke up and thought I'd cook you breakfast in bed today." Fingon bounced on his feet lightly, getting the fire going and quickly cleaning the fish. He glanced back at their bed. "If you really want to spoil me, vennonya, you might put on a little show for me? Since you're still in our soft, warm bedding, relaxing and," he glanced toward Maedhros' arousal, "having some morning fun."

Maedhros flushed. "Finnoooohhh," he whined softly, blinking up at him with eyes large and pleading.

"What are you looking at me for? You have hands." Fingon went back to preparing the meal, though both he and Maedhros were perfectly aware that he was almost constantly stealing glances at his husband. "I love you, though. So here." And he sent Maedhros another image, the same scenario, but with Fingon waking up stretched and bound, throbbing with need as he waited for Maedhros to grant him release. He was flushed and trembling with need, hröa and fëa begging for Maedhros' touch. "Would you like that more?"

"Fuck, Fin, I don't know," Maedhros groaned, stroking himself under the blankets, slowly but firmly, twisting his wrist slightly. "Nnnhhuhh I don't--I want--both? Fin, I--I thought you didn't--after last night I--" he bit his lip.

Biting his lip at the same time, Fingon carefully placed his knife down and stumbled over to the bed. "Please, Russ-- may I see?" He gripped Maedhros' ankle where his foot poked out of the bedding. "I want both, too. I want… I want all of you. Want to have you every way, want you to have me entirely." He leaned down and pressed his lips to Maedhros' foot. "Last night… I don't know what was wrong with me. I was confused. I hurt myself and was scared." Fingon shrugged, looking up to meet Maedhros' eyes. "But that doesn't mean I don't want… _that_... too."

Maedhros nodded, relieved. "Good. Me too. And I--" he hissed with pleasure, "I'll--" he kicked the blanket down to his knees, shivering in the cool of the morning. "Like this? he asked, turning onto his back as he stroked himself.

“Valar.” Fingon froze, gripping Maedhros’ leg as he watched. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, awed. “You’re just-“ he froze, looking up. “Breakfast!” Fingon would deny that he sounded exactly like Maedhros as he ran back to where the potatoes were close to overcooking. “Just keep going, darling. I can feel you and it’s… incredible. I’ll be right back.” Breakfast was almost ready, and he could set it up near the bed for as soon as they finished what they were in the middle of.

Maedhros hummed, basking in Fingon's pleasure, and his own. He licked his lips raw as he slid his hand up and down. He liked that Fingon was watching him, though he could not help wishing that Fingon was touching him, or that he was touching Fingon, and flashes of Fingon's fantasies inflamed him. "Fin--close--" he warned.

Fingon plated their food, pouring a glass of tea for each of them (nearly spilling it) and carrying their breakfast over to the bedding. He slid onto the sheets and straddled Maedhros, painfully close but not quite touching him anywhere. “Your turn, vennonya. Tell me what you want-- my eyes on you, or my hand, or my mouth, or would you rather be inside me? Pick one.” Fingon grinned. “Or more. Depending on how close you are.”

Maedhros keened softly, and shook his head. "Can't--wait--" he swallowed. "Your--mouth? Please?"

After leaning down to kiss him thoroughly, Fingon nodded. “Of course. And…if you’re willing.” He flipped around on top of Maedhros so that he could swallow him while leaving his own desire in his husband’s capable hands. Tyë melin, he thought. Quickly, now, before breakfast gets cold.

Maedhros reached up, lifting his head and taking Fingon in his mouth. This was delicious, and he sighed, feeling Fingon's mouth close around him. This is a perfect way to wake, Maehros told him, his pleasure tangible.

Good, and love this, Fingon sent back with his agreement. I guess I get breakfast early- and quite a feast you are my love. He hummed around Maedhros, his own his shifting slightly as he fought the urge to thrust into Maedhros’ wet, warm mouth. He reached down to cup and roll his husband’s sac as his tongue continued to play over Maedhros’ arousal.

Maedhros' hands wandered backwards, kneading his flesh as he pulled him deeper into his mouth, swallowing around him and holding him deep while he breathed through his nose. Love this, love you, he said, sighing contentedly. He began bobbing his head up and down, twisting his head as much as he was able, and sucking hard. Findekáno, you are too good for me--you pleasure me, and you feed me. I am so lucky.

Can’t… can’t stop. Not if you keep doing that. Going to finish, arimelda. Together? Will you finish with me? Fingon was begging, mouth and hands moving across Maedhros body. I’m the lucky one. So close, melda. You take such good care of me. Please?

Yes, please, melindo, please Finno, now! Maedhros screamed, growling and swallowing around Fingon hard and drinking down everything he had to give him: the pleasure of tasting Fingon, of pleasuring him, almost eclipsed his own pleasure as he spent into Fingon.

Fingon hadn’t felt tense before, exactly, but as they finished he felt as though he could melt. He was loose and relaxed, and after carefully cleaning Maedhros he crawled up the bed to join him. “Thank you,” he whispered, kissing him. “That was a wonderful start to the day.” He fit himself against his cousin, snuggling close. “Hungry?”

"After that?" Maedhros shrugged. "Findekáno, if I could survive on nourishment only from you I would be the happiest Elda in Aman--as it is, I'm sure I'm close." He grinned and pressed their noses together. "Love you. Let's eat," he agreed, sitting up.

Grabbing a tea, Fingon passed it to Maedhros before moving their plates. “I took after you and experimented, so I guess we’ll see how it turned out.” He took a sip of his own tea, sighing at the pleasantly hot drink. Fingon yawned. “I feel like it’s been a good day already. Productive too.”

"I can't believe I slept so late," Maedhros worried. "What did you want to do today--oh, Fin!" He cried suddenly. "This is really good!" He immediately took another large bite. "If we only had tomato sauce, or fried tomatoes." He peered at it as if expecting it to give him all his secrets, lost in culinary thoughts of how he might try this out.

"Just enjoy it," Fingon said with a laugh. I'll catch you all the fish you want if you'd like to experiment later." He grinned, imagining Russ might appreciate it if he wandered around nude every time he fished. He leaned against Maedhros, reveling in his husband's warm flush. "It's not as good as your meals," Fingon added after a thoughtful bite. "But it's not bad."

"It's excellent," Maedhros countered, gobbling more up. "As are you," he added, kissing Fingon's hair and opening himself up to hold Fingon closer. "I digressed, however. What would you like to do today? When would you like to head to the cabin?"

Fingon basked in Maedhros' attentions and the warm press of lips on his skin. "Would you like to explore a little more first? Walk or ride closer to the north end of the valley?" He looked up at Maedhros. "We could still get to the cabin by evening."

"Yes," Maedhros said, eyes tracking in that direction. "We could certainly take the long way to the cabin." But now he was more interested in Fingon than in his food.

Fingon felt Maedhros interest, shifting as desire began to grow in him. He set his tea down and turned to Maedhros, tilting his head to expose the line of his neck. "Will you mark me?" me asked, offering his throat. "Please?"

Maedhros huffed, eyes glazing. "Please. M-may I?" He said, already moving toward Fingon like a starving man.

Fingon wrapped his arms around his husband, pulling Maedhros' to him faster. "Please. Valarplease, Russ. Want to wear your marks. Want to ride off wearing them visibly. And where they can't be seen. Will you?"

Maedhros nodded, and was already pushing Fingon down to the bed, kissing him. "I do not need to mark you to make you mine, but I will enjoy it. Send you home to your father with my teeth marks in your skin." His heart rate and breathing had skyrocketed, and his nostrils flared possessively. He settled his weight over Fingon and kissed him hard and sloppy. His hand tangled in Fingon's hair.

"You've done that before," Fingon said, giggling. "But not yet, this time. We still have days and days to spend together. I won't give this up before I have to." He moaned against his lover, stroking the back of Maedhros' head and down over his back.

"Never going to let you out of the house without a mark on you," Maedhros growled, pulling on Fingon's hair to expose his neck. His knees and elbows were planted firmly to keep Fingon still beneath him. He licked at a spot behind his neck, breath coming quick and urgent, and he closed his mouth around the spot.

"Good," Fingon murmured. "More, please. Want you to bruise me, venno." relaxed against the bedding, letting Maedhros control their positioning and pace. "You look beautiful like this," he whispered, trailing his hand down Maedhros' back. "Even here. There should be statues of your hröa, darling. Though they would not do you justice, however beautifully crafted."

If Maedhros was honest, he ignored everything after 'bruise,' and he sucked down on Fingon's neck, digging his teeth into the flesh without biting. He breathed sharply through his nose, groaning as he tasted Fingon's skin.

Fingon pressed his throat into Maedhros’ teeth, moaning and shifting. He ground up, hips seeking friction even as his eyes slid half-shut lazily. “Tyë-melin. Tha’s _wonderful_ Russandol.”

Maedhros growled, tugging harder on Fingon's hair to keep him still, and pulled back enough to breathe before ravaging his neck again, slightly lower and forward. He wanted to stripe him down his neck, and the thought made him dizzy. He was--very suddenly very aroused. "Ah, Fin," he sighed, growing reckless and moving to the other side of his throat to build another bruise at the junction of neck and shoulder.

Head thrown back Fingon looked at the sky. “Feels so _good_ , melda. Thank you. Thank you.” He felt what Maedhros wanted, and settled placidly, more than willing. “Valar that feels… want you so much, venno.”

"Need, I _need_ you," Maedhros whined when he pulled back, loosening his grip in Fingon's hair to pet it. He kissed him roughly, and squeezed him all over. "Can we? I need you. Need to have you, make you mine. Please. _Please_. He was practically vibrating with lust.

Fingon was nodding against him, reaching up to tentatively stroke along Maedhros’ muscled arms and torso. “Please, venno. Vennonya I want us to be one.” He leaned up, catching Maedhros’ in a kiss torn between pressing forward against him and back into Maedhros’ large, comforting palm. He accepted Maedhros’ feelings eagerly; his husband’s lust fed his own which looped back to Maedhros because their bond was open and beautiful and vibrant. “Love you, darling. And I’m yours. I am. Want you to have me.”

"Need to--need to prepare you--" Maedhros huffed. His hands were shaking and he clamored for oil and snatched up the cooking oil in his desperation, spilling it onto his fingers and breaching Fingon, kissing him harshly, biting and sucking on his lips until they were bright red.

“’s good,” Fingon moaned, arching eagerly against him. And perhaps in some way this allowed what Maedhros had been aiming for the night before- what Fingon felt in him when Maedhros opened his fëa to him entirely. “Love this. Love being yours like this.” He leaned up, chasing Maedhros’ lips. What do you need? What can I do for you? Your touch ignites me, beloved.

"Hold. Still," he demanded--but it was more of a plea, a plea to let. Him. Do. This. Let him have this, have _him_ (why was this something he needed so badly?). "I love you. Love you. Mine. Never letting go," he lifted Fingon's leg over his shoulder and added another finger. "Findekáno," he moaned. "Need you. More than air, more than--I love you."

“Me, too. Me, too!” Fingon stilled himself with a gasped sob and twisted his hands in the sheets. Love this. Staying still for you but don’t want you to think I’m not loving this. Just… just tell me if you want me still or if you want me to move. I want to do everything you want, exactly what you want, right now. Alright? He blinked up at Maedhros was bright eyes. As their gazes locked, Fingon’s tongue slipped past his lips to wet them. He felt the stretch in his leg, and so much of Maedhros pressed against him and in him. It was wonderful. It was glorious. And Maedhros looked perfect and beautiful above him, tending to him even as Maedhros fought for control, a drop of sweat beading on his brow and his mouth tightening.

"I will, I will," Maedhros nodded, pressing his face into his hair, breathing in his scent. "Need you--just--hold still--let me--let me--" he added another finger and after stretching him quickly, oiled himself sloppily and lined himself up. "Just tell--" he was growling and he couldn't stop, "tell me if I hurt you." And he wrapped Fingon up in his arms, just as tightly as he liked to hold him, and pressed inside him.

They knew from earlier experiments that Fingon could be stretched further and faster than Maedhros, perhaps on account of them doing so fairly often, whereas with Maedhros it had been a rare treat. Now, after days of regularly being entered, Fingon found himself relaxing easily and enjoying the warm pressure as Maedhros entered him. He moaned his appreciation and sent it alone their bond, eyes never leaving Maedhros face. “’s _perfect_. Tyë melin, my prince.”

Holding Fingon to him, Maedhros began to thrust quickly, rutting into him like an animal until he was embarrassed but he couldn't stop. "Fin--Finno--love--you--" he huffed, mindless with need. Still crushing Fingon's body to him with one arm, with his other hand he reached between them to stroke Fingon to the same rhythm, and he sucked--gently now--on Fingon's ear.

Fingon drifted as they came together, unable to focus on anything except the fast slide of Maedhros against his skin and then wet suction on his ear. “Russssss,” he moaned. He whimpered and pleaded his husband’s name, wanting this to continue forever. Even as Maedhros took him quickly and eagerly, there was something almost fragile about him. Though he clung to Fingon with bruising force, blanketing him and controlling their motion, Fingon could end this, or bring it closer to culmination with a word. And as he gave himself over to his husband, his husband gave himself to Fingon equally.

"M-move, please," he begged Fingon, kissing him softly. "Need you to--to--struggle? Just--move--would you like that?" He pulled back to look, to check, to make sure he wasn't insane. "Love the feeling of you--wiggling." He bit his own lip, slowing his movements enough to look at Fingon.

“Pin me.” Fingon gasped, breathing shallowly. “I-I’ll struggle. I’ll writhe for you.” He dropped the sheets and wrapped an arm around Maedhros’ neck, the other moving to stabilize him as he thrust upward, trying to shift them, to move them to a position where he could flip them and ride his cousin. If Maedhros wanted him struggling, he would come up with a reason to truly struggle, even though his husband had all of the leverage the way they were currently entwined. “Fuck, Russ!” He gave up trying to push off with his hand and lifted it, dragging it alone Maedhros’ back and raising red welts in its trail. “Love you,” he groaned. “My Russ. My Prince. My Russandoll.”

Maedhros threw his head back, keening, at the feel of nails on his back, and held onto Fingon with both arms to keep him still, locking him to him, and he began to thrust faster, the playful struggle between them heating him in ways he could not understand or describe. "Ah, F-finn--fuuhhh--" he gasped. "Gonna make you come, gonna wring it out of you. Will you come for me, baby?"

“Make me,” Fingon choked, feeling Maedhros begin to come undone. He leaned forward, straining until his mouth met his husband’s neck and he could begin working a matching trail of bruises into his skin. “Mmmm. You’re delicious, Russ. Could do this all day!” He bucked up again, and the hand on Maedhros’ back moved lower, cupping his rear and pulling him faster, trying to shift Maedhros into the rhythm Fingon wanted. “C’mon melda. _Fuck_ me.”

Answering with a snarl, Maedhros lost anything he had resembling control and slammed Fingon's hands to the bed above him, his hips working faster than he thought he could, ploughing rough and deep. He ground his teeth together, demanding "Mine," and "Need" and " _Come_ " before he stifled himself by closing his jaw around Fingon's shoulder, screaming on the edge of climax.

Fingon obeyed. His hips continued to move slightly, trying to match Maedhros’ rhythm as he flew over the edge, spilling across his lover’s hand. “Russss!” When Maedhros began to spill he clamped down around his husband, focusing on maintaining the pressure around him and moaning aloud as he _felt_ what Maedhros was feeling. It was beautiful and sacred and he never wanted to let go, never wanted to lose having Maedhros above him and around him and within him, holding Fingon safe and comfortable beneath him.

"Ah, Fin--Findekáno," Maedhros gasped, shaking as he wrapped his arms around Fingon and kissed him--and also lost most of the strength in his legs and fell on him. Maedhros laughed, collapsing in a pile of overwrought nerves and desires and joy, and the more he tried to stifle it the more he giggle. "Finno, I--thank you--you feel so--so good--" he smiled, nuzzling against him, unwilling to let him go. "Are you all right? I didn't hurt you?"

Smiling, Fingon shook his head. He felt wonderful. He felt used and loved and desired. Fingon moved his released hands and wrapped them around Maedhros, clinging to him in turn. “We get to have this forever,” he breathed. Then he laughed, tearing up. “I don’t think my hröa can contain my happiness, Russ. Thank you. That was perfect and thank you.” He kissed on of the bruises on Maedhros’ neck and grinned at hm.

"Thank you, thank you," Maedhros whispered, pressing their heads together and rolling to one side, holding him tightly. "Forever. Tenn' ambar-metta." His grin was fixed to his face, and laughs still occasionally erupted as he pet Fingon's face and hair. "You're beautiful. I am so lucky." He giggled shyly: "You look beautiful with my marks on you," he said.

“So do you,” Fingon admitted. “I feel-- I feel like _yours_. Does that make sense?” He brought a hand up and ran it across his own neck as he turned into Maedhros’ touches, loving the feeling of hands tracing over his face and hair. “I like it.”

"I love--I love to make you--to show--to have you as mine," Maedhros said, kissing him softly. "And as much as you are mine, so I am bound to you. I need you so desperately. My heart is more tightly bound to your fëa than I could ever hold your hröa in my arms."

"Then we are the same. I love you with a passion I still do not fully understand. And my greatest desire is your happiness." Fingon sighed against his lover. "Thank you. This has been a perfect morning."

"You--thank _you_ ," Maedhros gasped, still holding Fingon tightly, still grinning like a fool. "Every morning with you in my arms is a good one." He ran his fingers over the bruises. "You're sure I didn't hurt you? I got--did I get c-carried away?" He kissed them lightly.

"Only in the best way," Fingon said with a pleased exhale. "You were perfect. We were perfect--thank you." He rubbed their noses together with a grin and moved to touch Maedhros' marks. "You're pretty colorful too. I didn't hurt you?"

"What? No. It felt good. Your--" he blushed, "your nails--they felt good. I--and I get also--I get very, um. I like marking you."  He smiled--and a giggle escaped. "Sorry."

Fingon laughed. "Please don't apologize, my dearest prince, for what we both enjoyed." He grinned and shivered. "And I get to spend all day covered in gifts that claim me as yours." Fingon let one hand drift down to curl around his cousin and he held Maedhros gently, comfortably, for Maedhros was his even as he was his husband's. "Do you know how ridiculously happy I am right now?" He opened their bond slightly wider in invitation.

Maedhros laughed out loud, the giggles overwhelming him again at Fingon's joy, and he was already as wide open as he could possibly be or he would have given Fingon more. "I love you. I love you--oh!" he said, and laughed again: "I think I'm sitting in my breakfast."

Fingon rolled back onto the bed, laughing until he cried. "Oh, this is perfect, Russ." He inched back over and draped himself over his husband. "I hope it's always like this. Us, I mean."

Maedhros got up gingerly, trying to clean up where fish and potato mash was stuck to his back and side, still laughing. "Like this? Well, I've thought of painting myself in chocolate for you, but fish mash seems unromantic somehow," he laughed.

"Not, not that," Fingon said, giggling. "Well, that. Just--this." He waved his arm expansively, then watched Maedhros for a minute. "Mmmm. Chocolate sounds good. For now I don't think it's worth doing further damage to the sheets trying to wipe that off, doll. Not when we're yards away from the lake. Shall we wash off and then, since we'll already be wet, head to the spring before we pack?"

"Yes. Yes, that sounds wonderful," Maedhdros said. "I think we need to-- _I_ need to clean up. And the bedding could use a wash," he grimaced slightly.

"I'll take care of the bedding." Fingon's back arched as he stretched languidly. "Alright. Let's go." He rolled to his feet with a sigh. "Kiss me first, though."

"Just remember what happened last time," Maedhros reminded Fingon with a grin, pulling him into his arms and kissing him deeply. "I love you," he whispered. "Can I--?" he asked, and as he stood he scooped Fingon into his arms and walked into the water.

"Cold!" Fingon clung to his cousin as Maedhros waded deeper. "Evil," he said, turning to gnaw at Maedhros' neck contentedly.

"It's not that cold," Maedhros said, but he hissed as the water hit his waist, and he dropped the rest of the way into the water to get it over with, shivering as much from the water as from Fingon's assault on his neck. "Mm, keep doing that and I'll stay plenty warm," he moaned, paddling out to deeper water, trying to keep moving.

I can keep doing this all day, melda. Fingon shifted to begin lavishing attention in the other side of his husband's neck. He wriggled in Maedhros' grasp so that his legs were wrapped around Maedhros' waist and they were more firmly pressed together as a deterrent to the cold. "Tyë melin," Fingon whispered, hand tracing over the marks that covered his husband's back.

"Tyë-melin," Maedhros echoed, wrapping his arms around Fingon (he never wanted to let go, he wasn't sure he could) and turning to paddle backwards as he showered him with as many kisses as he could reach to give him.

They stayed in the water until their fingers began to prune, at which point Fingon untangled himself and begin to swim for the shore. "C-ccold!" He grumbled, sprinting for a towel. "Hot spring?" He asked, teeth chattering and eyes pleading.

"Of course," Maedhros answered, following Fingon out of the water and taking his hand. "Only if we run there," he grinned, taking off at a sprint, and laughing.

Fingon chased after Maedhros with a smile, springing the entire way to the spring and taking a running leap into the deeper section of the water. He surfaced with a loud moan, warmed through and steam flushing his cheeks. "Oh, this is amazing, Russ! How will we live, not having this?"

Maedhros frowned. "Well I suppose you will have to be content with me keeping you warm," he said, slipping into the water and swimming to Fingon and wrapping him up in his arms. "And I think our new house has a bath large enough to share."

"Hmmm. Good point." Fingon wrapped his arms around his husband's neck. "I'm more than content with you keeping me warm," he murmured. "And you're right-- I bet father made sure our house has a wonderful bath. Especially after we kept sneaking time in the one at your house." He grinned. "This is a good morning. This is a good day. And I love you. Always, forever, and very, very much."

Maedhros quirked at whose father he was referring to, and he realized then that it didn't matter, and laughed. "This is--all of it--everything--you--are good." He kissed Findekáno and, "Now we can't dawdle. We have exploring to do before we head to the cabin!"

"Yes." Fingon grinned. But let's get dressed first--at least throw on trousers and boots. Is that acceptable?" He kissed Maedhros before wading toward the edge. "I don't know what I want to do," he said, bouncing. "I want to explore, but I'm sooo looking forward to the cabin. Will you make us hot cocoa again? Like you did when we first went there together?"

"Of course! As long as Tyelko followed my grocery instructions." They dried and dressed hurriedly. "As much as I love our hot spring, I'll be glad when we can have a warm bath that doesn't smell like sulfur." He took Fingon's hand again as they made their way back to camp.

"Mhmm. I'll take a bath every day with you. Two if you want!" He leaned his head on Maedhros' shoulder. "Will you dance with me when were at the cabin? Spin me around the room in your arms?" He spun away. "Which way? To the right of the lake or the left?"

"Tooooo, ah, the left?" Maedhros said. "Past the hot springs and around that wooded area? We haven't been that way, have we?" he said, shouldering his pack. "I had better. And no ambushing me with naughty fantasies unless you want me to trip and embarrass myself, and then quite possibly ambush you," he said with a grin.

"But arimelda, surely you've realized my secret by now?" He looked at Maedhros innocently. "I hardly ever stop thinking of them- particularly with such perfect material for fantasy before my waking eyes. And I'm not sure that you ambushing me would be a bad thing." He linked their arms together as they walked. "Consider me warned and aware. And quite interested in what an ambush would entail."

Maedhros grinned, squeezing Fingon's arm as they walked on. There was a bit of an incline that quickly dropped off, and then the woods grew thicker around them, and they almost began to have trouble until they found a deer path to follow, and Maedhros walked on ahead with Fingon close behind.

Fingon tried to think about the area around them, about the beauty of the forest and the sound of wind through the trees. But now that Russ had pointed it out- and it really was his fault- all he could think of were things he wanted to do with his husband. Each clearing became a place for a tryst, each smooth tree a surface his husband could pin him against. Your fault! he thought accusingly. I can't stop _thinking_ about it now. All the ways I want to have you; all the ways I want you to have me.

Finally, Maedhros had had enough. He found a convenient location for an ambush, sidestepped off the path, grabbed Fingon by his backpack straps and shoved him against a tree, placing a warning knee between his legs and kissing him possessively. "I can't decide if you're just teasing or actually trying to get my attention."

"Not _trying_ to tease. You mentioned it and now I can't stop thinking about it!" Fingon relaxed in Maedhros' hold, dropping his hands to his sides and baring his neck submissively. "You're fault," he whispered. "You're the one doing this to me--every time I see you, every time I think of you, and I'm always thinking of you."

"My fault?" Maedhros repeated, licking the proffered throat. "It's your choice, Findekáno: we can explore this region, or we can explore each other. We do not have time for both."

"I-- oh, Russ that's not fair!" Fingon's eyes slid shut and his hips ground lightly against his cousin. "W-want to explore. Want to—I _always_ want you, though. Never stop. I can't control it as well as you. I've needed you since I was born and now, with the bond…" he trailed off, one hand sliding around Maedhros to clutch him from behind and draw him closer. "What do you want? Will you let me go so we can explore, or will you have me first?"

Maedhros reached down and took hold of the front of Fingon's trousers, rubbing him firmly. "Well, I suppose we have time for a short pause," he said, tossing Fingon's pack to the ground and proceeding to divest him of his clothes. His own pack soon joined Fingon's, and he had luckily packed the oil near the top within easy reach. After kissing Fingon a final time, he spun him around to face the tree and bit into his neck.

"Ffffuck! Russ!" Fingon braced himself against the tree, leaning against smooth bark and waiting, waiting for Maedhros to do something. "Take me if you want me, darling. If not, then let me have you. Don't you already miss me pressing inside you, warm and full? It's been hours and I already yearn to have you within me again." He pushed his hips back, to emphasize his desire. "Please?" he begged, voice suddenly quiet and meek when his first words did not elicit an immediate positive reaction. "I miss you. Please put your hands on me. Or bury yourself in me. Please?"

"I remember. What do you think has me so urgent right now?" Maedhros asked, kicking Fingon's legs apart and thrusting oiled fingers into him. He tangled his other hand in Fingon's perfect hair, baring his neck and sucking on it. "Anyway, I'm not the one who's going to have trouble walking. Do you think you can call the horses?" he asked, preparing himself sloppily and pushing inside.

"My point exactly," Fingon muttered, then groaned as Maedhros slid fully into him. "I can call them. But probably not in the woods. And not out here. If we're done we might as well turn south and have them meet us towards where we entered the valley. Unless you had other plans?" He thrust backwards experimentally, and then again when he enjoyed the feeling it produced. "More?" he asked. "You can take me harder-- I won't break."

"I was rather hoping your _cries_ \--" here he snapped his hips forward, thrusting particularly hard, "would alert them to our whereabouts." And at Fingon's challenge he rode him hard, crushing him into the tree and bracing one leg on a rock for leverage, absolutely battering against his lover. "I know you can," he growled. "I know you like it." He tugged his hair back. "You like that?"

YesyespleaseRusspleasmore! Fingon almost choked as his head was pulled further back. "ValarRuss! Please!" He had no leverage (again), nowhere to go, pinned between his husband and the tree. And Fingon eagerly pressed between the two, trying to encourage Maedhros to move more and harder and there! Right there! Please, melda. There. Again! His eyes closed and he let Maedhros control them as he relaxed into the sensations.

He was lifting Fingon, practically helping him climb the tree, and slamming into him without abandon, grunting and sweating and making sure he moved at just the right angle to have Fingon screaming. "Love you like this. Delicious. Mine. Can you come for me?"

"Now?" Fingon gasped. He was untouched, but Maedhros felt so _good_ in him. And if he just kept hitting right there, and Fingon thought about what they were doing, how his beloved, calm, slightly prudish lover was taking him, then he could just… almost… He released with a cry, body tightening around Maedhros even as his knees weakened. "Ah! Oh. O-o-oh." Maedhros continued battering into him, riding him through it, and Fingon slumped in his arms as Maedhros used his hröa.

Maedhros followed soon after, and with an unholy howl, in response to the sudden tightening around him as Fingon came, and he continued thrusting until he grew soft and his legs shook. Refusing to fall, though panting, he leaned against Fingon, crushing him against the tree and kissing along his neck as he reached blindly into his pack for-- "Going to see how you do with this," he said, pulling out and sliding the plug into Fingon's willing body before reaching down to tug his trousers roughly back up to his waist.

"A-ah… you like doing that too much!" Fingon groused with a grin. He put a hand to his stomach. "Are we going forward, or back?"

"I do, I like it very much," Maedhros grinned, though he watched Fingon carefully for signs of genuine distress or discomfort. He pulled up his own trousers and tied them before helping Fingon to his feet and dress. "And I will watch you more carefully this time," he promised. This did not mean, however, that he couldn't pop Fingon on the behind with the flat of his hand.

Fingon shuddered. "W-which way?" he asked. "I don't-- where do you want me?"

"You'll hold my hand or I'll hold you always while we walk. If I am not holding onto you I want you to not take a single step, understand?" Maedhros said, growing almost stern, though he was still smiling. This was important, however. This way he could be sure Fingon would not hurt himself.

Fingon may have rolled his eyes slightly, but you never stopped smiling. "If you insist. Shall we?" He leaned against Maedhros, because he could, as they continued their explorations. And if he squeezed his husband somewhat hard whenever a step jolted the plug, Maedhros wasn't' complaining.

After a long time distracting Fingon with guesses at birds and pointing out geographic oddities to note, Maedhros let his hand slip below Fingon's pack to rest on his backside. He still held Fingon's hand with his other hand, and didn't plan on letting him go any time soon. "How do you feel, Finno?"

"Good." He shivered, offering his feeling to Maedhros. "I think I like having you tease-- having you touch me as you never would in public." He turned and kissed Maedhros' shoulder contentedly. And he pointed out a new birdcall that came suddenly from north of them.

After waiting to see if the bird in question appeared, Maedhros took the opportunity to squeeze Fingon's flesh roughly. "Never would in public?" He repeated. "Finno we're married now. Who's to say I won't change?"

Fingon looked up at that. Really? The thought was slightly incredulous as he had trouble connecting the forward, mischievous, possessive husband with everyone's favorite older cousin and negotiator. "I love you either way- both ways," he said aloud. "And however you wish to act in public..." He shrugged. "I would never be displeased with you. Though if you're encouraging public possessive displays of affection, be warned that I'll happily do the same to you."

Maedhros blushed, now fully aware that he'd bitten off more than he had the intention of chewing, and that Fingon knew that. "Ai, well. We'll see," he said dismissively. He smacked Fingon's rear again and pulled him onward.

Yelping, Fingon stumbled forward. "One day you'll be wearing this," he warned, still grinning broadly. "And I'll be merciless, vennonya."

Maedhros grinned in anticipation, though he also blushed, and if he continued to rest his hand on Fingon's available backside, well, it was only to further steady his walking.

Fingon groaned, pressing back into his hand lightly. "Come on, Russ. Where are you leading us? Further into the woods or to the edge of the lake? Shall we go in search of that bird?" He glanced over at his cousin, and shifted his free hand to press against Maedhros' hand where it lay against him.

"I think we should head toward the lake. Whistle for the horses and have a quick lunch" and probably definitely other things "until they get here. You're in no condition to climb like this," Maedhros insisted.

"And whose fault is it that I'm in this condition?" Fingon laughed. "Last night, this morning, just now… I blame you entirely, arimelda!" They turned toward the lake. "Lunch does sound good, though. And this evening… hot cocoa and a warm bath with salts or oils, and a giant fluffy bed. Complete with my most beloved husband." He winked at Maedhros.

"We are in agreement, then," Maedhros said, and grinned wolfishly: "And I quite like you like this. If I could keep you in a constant state of arousal which only I could ever sate, I would do it and enjoy it." He pulled Fingon into a hungry kiss and walked on, now with a bit more urgency.

"That's not what you do already?" Fingon relaxed slightly as they increased their speed, and soon they could hear water lapping along the shore. The forest ended abruptly, and within a few yards they moved from deep underbrush to a small open area along the lake's shore. "Beautiful," he whispered, moving to a series of rocks that jutted out into the water. "Russ, it's gorgeous!"

"It is," Maedhros agreed. "Beautiful, I mean," but he wasn't looking so much at the lake as at his cousin. His husband. He stepped up behind Fingon and wrapped his arms around him. "And what did I say about you taking one step without me?"

"I can stand on my own, venno. Though I like having you with me." Fingon leaned back into his husband. "Shall we call for the horses and start setting up lunch? I'm actually… quite hungry already!"

"Yes. And in the meantime I'll have to punish you, since you don't seem to understand that my rules should be obeyed whether you think you need them or not," he growled playfully, cupping Fingon's groin and squeezing experimentally.

"Mmm-agh!" Fingon ground against him. "You're not the b-boss of me Russandol!" Fingon protested. "Not when we aren't playing a specific game where you are." He shivered, though, and did not move away from Maedhros' hands.

"I thought we were," Maedhros growled. "You agreed to wear this for me, after all," he said, grinding into the plug. "But--" he pulled back slightly, "I mean, we don't have to be. If you don't want?"

Chuckling, Fingon leaned back against him. "I agreed to wear it because you wanted me to." He looked back at Maedhros. "But if you want to play we can." He shrugged. "Just want to be with you--want you to be pleased."

"Mm," Maedhros agreed, and he couldn't find it in himself to be ungentle. "Going to make love to you then," he said. "Softly, slowly, gently. Make you impatient and beg for me by the end."

Fingon whined high in his throat. "Please," he murmured, shifting slowly against his husband. "Now?" He bit his lip, turning carefully in Maedhros' arms (mewling as the pug shifted) to face him. He raised himself on his toes with a silent gasp and kissed him.

"Yes, love, now," Maedhros insisted, kissing Fingon gently. "How do you want this? What can I do to make you feel good?"

"Could I lie on my back?" Fingon asked quietly. "Here, by the shore. And... Slow, please. With lots of kisses?"

"Yes, of course, darling. My love, my precious one." Maedhros removed his over tunic and laid it on the grass, which was slightly damp, and led Fingon onto it, following him down and kissing him all the way down.

"Russ!" Fingon sighed, moaning against him. His arms came up to wrap around Maedhros' back and tangle in his hair. "Love you," he whispered. "You feel so _good_ on top of me!"

"And you feel good against me," Maedhros sighed, taking his time with kissing and touching where before he had been quick and urgent. He kissed his lips until they were pink and his cheeks until he blushed, hands petting his hair and face as much as his groin, and they hadn't even got his clothes off yet.

"You undo me vennonya. I love thee, need thee, want thee. You make me feel precious." Fingon kissed Maedhros lightly. "Thank you." He moved his hands to Maedhros' pants, fingers tracing over the edge of the fabric."

"Do you want me already?" Maedhros teased. "I haven't even finished spoiling you yet." He smiled benevolently, but a bit devilishly.

"Do I get to spoil you as well?" Fingon lifted his hands in mock surrender and lay back. "Well then, pleasure me. Blow my mind. Take me to new heights of pleasure." He winked at Maedhros and moved his arms above his head in an entirely submissive pose.

Maedhros worried at his throat ever so gently, warmed by his body still and soft and pliant beneath him. "Love you," Maedhros whispered, and kissed him, and said it again, and undid one tie and kissed him again, and so on until his shirt was open and his chest bared. He lavished attention on his pink nipples and always, always rubbed against him steadily. He might have spent an hour like this.

Can't, Fingon thought, moaning. "Russ. Doll, love you, so good!" He arched against his lover, enjoying both the pace and the attention. Silently he promised to do this for Maedhros one day.

"All right, Fin," he whispered, and rolled Fingon into a sitting position, feeling him jolt and hiss as he sat on the plug. "Want to brush and braid your hair. This is taking care of you, too, isn't it?" He asked innocently. "Want you to need me before this is over, but right now I'll be about your hair."

"Evil. You like me in agony. Should I be worried about that?" Fingon shifted his legs, trying to get comfortable while Maedhros worked.

"I _hate_ you in agony," Maedhros countered. "I quite like you uncomfortably aroused. If you're in agony I hope you'll tell me, without exaggeration." He continued to braid calmly, though Fingon's squirming soon had him shifting uncomfortably in his trousers.

Fingon turned in his arms, and Maedhros shifted back slightly, startled. Fingon used his movement to press forward, and continuing the motion landed on top of Maedhros, who was flat on his back. “I’ve left my mind open to you, melindo. You can always _look_ if you want to know what I’m feeling.” He placed his teeth over Maedhros neck, pressing into the skin slightly though he did not bite.  And I would tell you or move away if it were too horrible. “But I think you need a lesson on just how… tantalizing and _tormenting_ your actions are.” One hand moved to Maedhros’ trousers, dexterous fingers quickly loosening the laces enough to remove them.

Maedhros gulped, but nodded. Please, he whispered.

At the word, Fingon began carefully opening him. He worked slowly, until three fingers fit easily within, and then he reached for his own trousers, pulling them to mid thigh as he looked down at Maedhros. “I should mmake you w-wait,” he groaned. “Play with you like you did w-with me.”

Maedhros shivered watching him, and bit his lip. Fingon was still plugged, and Maedhros almost felt bad about that -- unless it felt amazing. It would probably feel amazing. For both of them. And they would both be able to feel it. "Fin--" he huffed desperately, heart racing.

"I knowIknowIknow. Desperate, right?" Fingon grinned at his husband ferally. "May I have the, my Russandol?" Fingon oiled himself and went back to playing with Maedhros' hroa. He was already shaking and every time he moved the plug shifted and-- Fingon poured the feelings towards his husband. You see what you do to me?

Was he really that easy? Maedhros had been toying with Fingon all morning and now here he was helplessly desperate in minutes. And the sensations Fingon shared with him, they almost made him jealous. He definitely gaped, unable to speak (damn it, he was _easy_ ), and nodded thinking Please please please yes please Fin please.

Fingon moaned softly, ducking down to catch Maedhros in a kiss as he pressed into him. There was resistance for a moment and then, as before, his husband seemed to open up to welcome him within. Fingon squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath as he moved deeper. "Russ. Oh Russandol." Maedhros was beautiful underneath him and Fingon couldn't stay still, he had to move, even if he started with slow, small movements of his hips. When he looked at Maedhros his cousin's mouth had dropped open and he looked caught in the sensations and pleasure. Russandol. I love thee. How I love thee. You are beautiful like this, vennonya.

Maedhros was almost indignant. Like, how, why? What was he doing wrong that he could not do this to Fingon? What was wrong with him that Fingon had him with almost no effort? Maedhros hadn't tried, but he assumed he couldn't move, under Fingon's spell as he was. "Nnnnggghhaaa," he groaned, fingers twisting in the shirt below him that served as bedding

Pressing closer, Fingon placed fleeting kisses across his cheeks, his chin, his throat, and the tip of his nose. When he met Maedhros' lips again, he began to increase his pace, pulling almost entirely out of his husband before rocking back into him. You think you don't? You've seen me come apart under your touch, Russ. You drive me to distraction every day, even if I've become decent at hiding it most of the time. He kissed Maedhros again. "Tyë melin. Love you, darling." There was something powerful about being able to drive Maedhros past speech, past movement so quickly. And Fingon knew it was likely a result of their shared desire and due to how long Maedhros had been teasing him, but it was still incredibly flattering. "More? Do you think you can take me a little harder, my doll?"

Yes yes please, he said before he realized he wasn't even speaking out loud: "Yes," he managed, shaking, back arching, wanting everything. Fingon was stretching him and the burn felt _good_ , grounding him in case he had any ideas about escape. Fingon's eyes glowed, like the lake stars, and Maedhros bit his lip to keep from squeaking like a mouse caught by a cat.

He thrust in hard, fast, rocking both of them and forcing him to shake his head to try to get his partially pleated hair out of the way. "Don't do that," Fingon whispered. He raised his free hand and pressed his thumb to Maedhros bottom lip. "We're the only ones here. Please don't hide from me vennonya. I want to hear you. Want to see you and hear you and feel you right now." Fingon dropped his head down, planting his arms near Maedhros' shoulders and focusing on moving in and out of his cousin.

Maedhros keened, unable to deny Fingon anything. "Ai, Fin--Fin--" he panted, and as if the spell was broken now he writhed and thrashed, grabbing Fingon's wrists either to steady him or push him away. His legs kicked, and he groaned audibly as his movement collided with that spot inside him. "Findekáno!" He shrieked urgently.

Fingon slammed home and made a noise somewhere between a yelp and a groan as the glass inside him shifted, by some mercy or torturous design pressing against his spot at the same moment he rubbed against Maedhros'. "Valar, Russ. Russ. My Doll. You are… I can't even-" He was at one taking and taken, and then taken again as he shared Maedhros' perspective and lay flat on the ground with his lover moving over him. He wished, he hoped Maedhros was feeling this as well- feeling how he felt, his own hröa taking and taken at once. He grabbed one of his husband's legs and urged it up to wrap around his waist as he moved.

Uncoordinated by lust, Maedhros whined and twitched, trying to pull Fingon further into him, and he felt--for a moment he was entirely disoriented and dreaming, wondering where that second hole had come from and how--unless--oh that was Fingon's-- "Please, please," he begged. It was too much, he was going to--he didn't know what, but he needed--needed-- "Findekánooooohh!" He cried helplessly, back arching off the ground and neck bared and eyes wild.

Fingon thrust hard, both their bodies shifting forward along the ground with each thrust, ducked his head, and bit down, marking Maedhros’ neck and then deepening the bruise. _Come_. The order was almost growled along their bond, because Maedhros had already been teasing him for so long and Fingon desperately needed to come. But he wanted—needed-- Maedhros to finish first. Needed to feel his cousin tighten around him, and feel the onslaught of emotion across their bond as his husband went over the edge.

It was almost frightening like this, when Maedhros let himself go entirely trusting Fingon only--but more than that it was exhilarating, and doubly arousing, so when he came he came twice, or it was almost like he had, and shook apart and felt nothing for a long time but Fingon, the only thing grounding him and keeping him attached to his body, and it was rough and it was beautiful and it was warm and safe and comfortable, it was _Fingon_. He shuddered as he came back to himself, dizzy and disoriented, and Fingon was spending inside him, filling him up, filling his soul. He realized he had forgotten to breathe and gasped, his body open and vulnerable.

Mouth falling open, Fingon finished quickly, muscles tensing and eyes opened wide. He lost control of his body, and could do nothing but ride it out. And within him, he clenched down hard on unforgiving glass and keened, shoving into Maedhros harder. He was shivering when he finished, and landed flat on his husband. As he tried to catch his breath, Fingon reached behind him, carefully sliding the glass out a small movement at a time. He tilted his head up to look at Maedhros.

Maedhros wasn't sure where or who he was yet but, "Are you all right?" He somehow managed to ask the angel lying on top of him, arms he could barely control somehow going around him.

Fingon pressed upward with strength he didn’t know he head to catch Maedhros’ lips. Perfect. Radiant. Blissful. I love you. He shifted to the side, gentling Maedhros and urging him to lay back. Fingon washed off the glass plug, and poured most of the remaining oil over it. “I’ve got you. I have you darling.” Fingon caressed Maedhros head and hair and he took Maedhros’ lips again. As he did so he pulled out of his husband with a whimper and quickly replaced himself with the plug, turning it as he slowly pushed it into his lover.

"Oh--f-fuuu--" Maedhros managed eloquently, unable (or unwilling) to protest, and he blinked up at Fingon, his brow slightly furrowed in confusion. "I--" he twitched, whimpering slightly, "But I--" and he was going to say something that made no sense like 'I forget how to dance' so he kept his mouth shut, waiting for Fingon to explain why he needed to come again even though his cock was soft with exhaustion.

Petting his hair gently, Fingon watched Maedhros. “Are you alright, doll?” he asked, hand shifting to cup Maedhros’ cheek. “I can feel it-- just a little. You need to finish, don’t you? And so soon. Did you even enjoy what I did to you? I was working so hard to please you, you know.” Unable to keep a serious expression Fingon smiled, laughing softly. “Valar, Russ. Right now you feel-- like I feel around you so very often. Are you well, though? Do you want more from me?” Fingon kissed his temple, his now, and his lips, then scooted downward, cleaning off his husband’s seed and finally drawing Maedhros’ softened flesh into his mouth.

Oh no! Maedhros thought. Not so soon, not so much! His breath hitched--it felt so good. So good. Fingon was (doing to you exactly what you tried to do to him) going to milk him _again_ and he just couldn't. He whimpered and pulled back (his flesh over-sensitive and that felt so good his balls tightened up immediately), squirming in a way he was sure was undignified. "Please," he whined, caught between too much and not enough (and why couldn't he do this to Fingon?), and he hoped Fingon could read his mind and make more sense of it than he could.

Alright. Alright. Fingon pulled back, sucking on Maedhros and drawing him up slightly before he released him. “Oh, well. If you’re done, I suppose some lunch is in order. Just lie back if you need to, and I’ll start setting up.” Fingon leaned over and kissed his husband’s cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered. “That was wonderful; you were beautiful. And you are perfect, Russandol. I love thee. I’m glad I can make you feel good also.”

Maedhros' breath hitched, feeling warm and comforted and loved by Fingon, and he smiled, and gave up on trying to focus and just let himself ride out the haze of pleasure. Thank you, he said, and he didn't want to or couldn't move but he turned toward Fingon just to watch him move. Telperion’s and Laurelin’s light was warm on his skin and his lover was so beautiful it brought tears to his eyes. "I love you," he whispered, still unsure of everything but this.

Fingon smiled, reaching out to pat Maedhros comfortingly as he began grabbing things from their packs. “Tyë melin. Inyë tyë-mela.” He sorted through their food, slowly setting out cheese and crackers, meat and a few berries they had gathered before leaving. “Can you sit up and have lunch with me, melda?”

Maedhros nodded, rolling up until he sat on the plug he had forgotten about, and "Oh!" He cried, falling back. He hasn't expected it to feel so--well, it hurt! But in a very good way and it was rather dizzying. Shaking his head as if he could clear he it he got up on his elbows before flopping to one side (oh no, his cock was hard, he could feel it filling), but his knees together didn't help. "Um," he said, refusing to admit defeat but unsure how to proceed.

“Are you alright, darling? I’m not asking you to go again. Just to eat with me.” Fingon smiled at him charmingly. “Surely you want some lunch before we go again? And maybe you should finish brushing out and plaiting my hair.” He moved next to Maedhros, helping him up slowly. “Don’t sit on it too fast. Make sure you brace your legs. Kneel with your legs apart, perhaps? Or whatever feels best for you. Just move slow, alright?” Fingon held Maedhros’ chin in his hand and turned his head, kissing him.

Hair. Yes, he wanted that. He always wanted to play with Fingon's hair. "Please," he managed, and got to his knees, reaching for Fingon's hair like a lost child, and only once those silky strands threaded through his fingers did he feel better, like he might focus on something other than his aching need. The world narrowed to black silk, and he ignored the sandwich Fingon offered, and he twisted twenty braids and braided them together, hardly noticing anything around him.

Enjoying his own sandwich, Fingon focused on staying still as Maedhros played with his hair. “Feels good,” he murmured. It was intimate and beautiful and he felt so close to Maedhros when his cousin did this. He sighed, head almost falling back as he relaxed. “Feels so good. Thank you.” He reached back with a hand to pat Maedhros’ leg. “How do you feel, doll? Can you feel your plug? Can you feel how it shifts every time you move? And do you like it as much as I did?”

Maedhros nodded, opening himself up because it was easier than talking. He was trying not to think about the plug, but there was no position in which he could not feel it, and although all day when it was in Fingon he had wished he had made it bigger he now wished he had made it much smaller. And now he was done with Fingon's hair and had no excuse. He reached for his sandwich, trying not to move too much.

Fingon grinned, turning to face Maedhros. He slid his hands up Maedhros' thighs, rubbing as he watched Maedhros try to eat, and as he watched his husband try to ignore his obvious arousal. "Want to talk to me, darling? Tell me how you're feeling right now?" He slid his hand further back, and lightly tapped at the top of the plug.

Startled, Maedhros actually dropped his sandwich, but counted it no loss as he groaned at the contact. "Feel like--" he began haltingly, "like I need to f-finish. Again. Did you--?" He began to ask, then fell silent.

“Did I what?” Fingon asked, slightly concerned. “It’s alright. The plug does that. What did you want to ask me?” He rubbed his hands over Maedhros soothingly.

Did you feel like this? He asked--not using words seemed safer and more honest. Unmade and new and--needing? And awkward. I feel awkward. It wasn't bad it was just vulnerable and Maedhros didn't do vulnerable well. "But I don't want it to stop," he blurted out, taking hold of Fingon's wrist in case he felt--pity, or something.

“You’ll tell me if you want to stop or to do something else.” It wasn’t a question, but Maedhros nodded. “Now, do you want another sandwich right now?”

Maedhros shook his head. He wasn't sure where his hunger had gone. He felt too tight in his skin or too big or something. He needed--he was sure he needed release, sure that would help.

“Alright then. Here,” Fingon stood, and held out his hand, “stand up. Let’s walk around a bit. You might feel better.”

Maedhros' stomach fluttered, and he felt betrayed, and might have complained of the abuse (Fingon knew exactly what this was doing to him!) except that it also sent a rush to his cock. He groaned as he stood, on colt-shaky legs, feeling silly as his arousal made itself evident.

Fingon wrapped a hand around his husband’s insistent arousal and gently tugged him forward. “Come on. Let’s take a quick walk along the shore.” He smiled at Maedhros innocently--no small feat as he stood there, trousers undone and holding his husband’s reddened arousal. “Maybe then you’ll be ready for lunch.” He winked, sliding his trousers the rest of the way off and tugging at his husband again to get him to begin walking.

Maedhros cried out, squeaking helplessly as Fingon guided him, like a hound on a leash, by his most vulnerable part. He was dizzy with indignation and arousal--but it got him walking. He grabbed Fingon's wrist, but now the steps shifted that _thing_ inside him and he nearly stumbled. "Fuck!" he groaned, squirming and gasping helplessly, though his grip on Fingon's wrist insisted nothing. "Slower. Please, wait," he begged, shaking. This was certainly _not_ helping his appetite for food come back, though it was very much affecting his appetite for other things.

Fingon turned, walking backwards and offer Maedhros another arm to stabilize himself with. “This is slower than we were going earlier,” he said with a smirk. He leaned forward, rising to his toes and kissed Maedhros’ brow. “You’re doing wonderfully, though. You’re a work of art in motion arimelda.” When Maedhros could take several steps in a row, he leaned down and rapped on the plug again. “Good?”

Maedhros went rigid, his next steps jerky as he squirmed, wanting to push Fingon away and pull him toward him and demand more all at once. "D-don't feel like it," he managed, his breath catching as much as everything else. He _liked_ seeing Fingon awkward and uncoordinated with desire, but he couldn't imagine that Fingon liked the same thing--but neither did he imagine he was anything but. "You're better at this than me," he mumbled awkwardly, swallowing hard and shifting. Every step sent bolts of pleasure up his spine, and Fingon's hand on him was dizzying. He was lucky when he remembered other parts of his body belonged to him, he was so focused. His heart meanwhile felt like it was going to beat out of his chest.

The _really_ odd thing was that he didn't want this to stop.

Fingon stepped forward, pulling Maedhros into a quick hug. “You’re just as good at this as I am. You’re beautiful. And to see you almost undone with desire, just from taking a walk… it’s incredible, vennonya.” He looked around at the lake and the shore, still able to spot their packs in the distance though they had walked some ways. “Let’s head back, unless you want to go farther?” They turned, and Fingon moved to walk next to Maedhros. He let him get several yards, and with a smile grabbed his cousin’s rear much like Maedhros had enjoyed holding onto Fingon’s earlier that morning.

Maedhros yelped and veered away, out of reach, grabbing at Fingon's arms. "Stop that, stop," he said, but he was grinning now and breathless (like Fingon said 'Stop tickling me!' when he was little and in all actuality did not want anything to stop). "I can--I can walk further. You did," he insisted, challenge now in his eyes burning together with the mindless lust.

“Well, if you don’t want to finish, we can keep going. Actually, we might as well go back, grab our packs, and keep walking for a while. It’s flat and grassy here-- we don’t need clothing, really. Shall we?” Fingon upped the ante with a smile. And you had your hands all over my rear this morning! Why shouldn’t I have the same? Especially when you look and feel so… delicious.

"Please--mm, wait, I--I need to--" Maedhros looked down at his predicament in embarrassment, unable even to say the word. "Then we could--but what about the horses?" Also his pack was very heavy, and it changed the way he walked and walking was already hard enough like this and he couldn't _believe_ Fingon had been walking like this for _hours_ what was _wrong_ with him?

“No? While we walk why don’t you tell me what you’d like, doll, and if it’s something I’d like as well, perhaps we can do that?” Fingon ran his hand over Maedhros, then reached behind him. He removed several of the waterskins and tied them to his own pack before reaching for Maedhros’ arm. “Come on. We’ll find the horses eventually.” He groped his husband again, and rested his hand on Maedhros’ rear where he could tap at the plug with a finger whenever he felt like it.

Maedhros gripped the straps on his pack in a white knuckled grip as they walked. His breathing was harsh and he ground his teeth, but he could do this, even if he felt silly. He tried relaxing and--almost by magic--the plug became less of a problem. Sure it still grazed against the nerves inside of him that made him see sparks, but it didn't _hurt_ anymore. He was almost beginning to get used to it! "I want--I think we should--you could--have--me," he began, faltering. "Want--you could even put it back in when you were done, but I need to--to finish," he said.

Fingon’s next step faltered. “Russ,” he whispered. He smiled fondly, beyond pleased that Maedhros was telling him what he needed. He sent his pleasure, and his pride at Maedhros through their bond. Grinning, Fingon grasped Maedhros’ hand and squeezed it. “Do you want me in you, darling? Or should I take you in my mouth while you stand here, stuffed and desperate and needing?”

Maedhros all but melted at Fingon's pride and praise. At any other time he would like to have Fingon on he knees in front of him but now--now-- "I would like--mm--you in me. Please?" he was already shaking. He was sure he would come once he was on his knees. Also this stupid bag, also he wanted his clothes back.

Grinning, Fingon slipped Maedhros’ pack off his shoulders. He pressed himself against Maedhros’ back and leaned up to his ear. “I want you on all fours on the ground. Get comfortable and wait for me.” As Maedhros moved he removed his own pack and began searching for the oil. Maedhros should still be slick within, but being careful wouldn’t hurt.

Maedhros felt immediately better, safer, and more still inside, both at Fingon's happiness with him as well as at speaking what he wanted. The words weren't taboo, and neither were his desires. They certainly didn't hurt, and if he was blushing it was still from his own hangups. Fingon _liked_ hearing him talk like that, and when he went to his knees and down to his hands he felt--well, yes, _proud_ to be in this position for his beloved.

Fingon knelt behind him, brushing his hair aside and kissing Maedhros’ neck. He moved down, kissing along his spine until he reached the small of his back, and then retreating slightly. “Ready?” he asked. One hand held Maedhros’ calf to steady him as he began to work out the plug, twisting it. “Tell me what you’re feeling right now, doll. How does this feel?”

"Excited," he blurted out, afraid that if he paused at all he would never get the words out, and he so desperately wanted to please his husband. "Want--" he squeaked as the plug stretched him wide coming out, and his toes curled, and he didn't have words for this: "Hurts. Good. More." Being reduced to one-word replies was humiliating.

Fingon started to slide the plug back in. “More? You mean you want me to _fuck_ you with this, love?” He felt slightly guilty, and knew he would give in soon and have Maedhros. He was aroused as well, and wanted to be buried in his husband again.

"No," Maedhros blurted out. "Yes. I mean--" This was hard! No wonder he didn't string coherent sentences together in the heat of the moment--he couldn't! He bucked slightly, frustrated with his own inability to explain, and biting his lip to help himself think (the plug battering his insides wasn't helping), he eventually managed: "Stretch. Hurts. Feels--good. More-- _more_ ," he begged, hoping that was clear.

“Can’t go faster with this, doll. I don’t want to risk hurting you.” Fingon removed the plug, setting it to the side. Then he blanketed Maedhros’ form and slipped into him, sliding to the hilt almost immediately. “Fuck! Oh, oh, Russandol, _darling_.” One hand tightened above Maedhros’ own. “So good. You feel amazing. How did I live so long without this?” He praised Maedhros and comforted him, beginning a fast, though not unkind, pace. He shuddered, needing Maedhros with a force he could barely believe far less understand. “Tyë melin. Tyë melin, Russ.”

Maedhros screamed his pleasure from low in his gut, not giving a damn who heard him. That, _that_ was exactly what he wanted, that was exactly what he couldn't describe, and his body twitched in response and gratitude. "Fin! Fin!" he whined, trying to move and shouting wordlessly as Fingon plowed him. "Harder! Please! Oh!" He fell forward, pressing his forehead into the grass, looking down at where their bodies joined, mesmerized by the motion.

“There. Perfect. Perfect, Russ. _My_ perfect Russ. Oh, darling, doll, yes.” Fingon grunted, moving more faster still, with a rough and desperate edge to his movement. Tell me, he begged. Tell me if it’s too much. You have to tell me if you don’t like this. Won’t hurt you; can’t hurt you. Tyë melin, my love, my life, my light. He let go and pounded into his lover, trying to hold back until Maedhros was driven over the edge.

"Won't--hurt--hurts--goodohfuck!" Maedhros growled, beginning to rock back to meet these harder thrusts. Yes. Yes yes yes yes please more harder just like yes this can I come please let me come need to need to need to "Fin--Fin--close--need to--need--"

“Yes, that’s it. So good, darling. Come for me, finish in my hand.” Fingon grabbed for Maedhros, wrapping a hand around him on his second try, and began stroking as quickly as he could, trying to keep up with the pace of his thrusts. “Please, come for me, doll. Want you coming apart under me. Close, doll. So close.” He groaned, and bit Maedhros’ shoulder hard.

The bite on his shoulder and the ache in his backside and the stimulation of Fingon's hand on him was entirely too much, and Maedhros bellowed so loud he was almost instantly embarrassed at his abandon, but he didn't cut himself off. He rode it out to the end, shaking and coming--hard, hard and long, until he thought he'd never finish spending, until he didn't know where it was coming from, and he felt so good and Fingon was still ploughing into him, coming, too, until suddenly he was collapsing forward on legs that could no longer support him. "Finno, Fin, Fin, Fin, Finfinfinfin," he sighed, blissed out and breathless and brainless and boneless.

“That’s it. That’s it, doll. Oh, my darling, darling, prince. My doll. My boy. You’re mine, aren’t you?” Fingon kissed his neck and across his shoulders, rocking against Maedhros as his thrusts slowed until he was still, resting within his husband. “Thank you. You’re so perfect, love. Tyë melin. I love thee. Thank you.” Fingon pressed his forehead against the back of his husband’s neck. “Was that what you needed, doll?”

"Yes," Maedhros gasped out, voice going high and breathy, and for some reason a sob built in the back of his throat he was too emotionally open to try and hide. "Thank you," he said, letting a tear fall, "th-thank you. Good, feels good. Thank you."

Fingon stayed in him, wrapping his arms around his lover until he began to slide out. “Don’t want to leave you,” he whispered. He pressed his lips to Maedhros skin and picked up the plug, slipping it back home again as he slid free. “Oh, doll, I miss you already.” He gently rolled Maedhros so that he lay on his back and covered him, peppering kisses across his husband’s face and licking his tears away. “I love thee. With every fiber of my being, with my hröa and fëa entirely. Thank you so much for having me, darling. My perfect, precious, Russandoll.”

Maedhros smiled, breath catching as his body stilled. "Love you. Love b-being yours," he sighed, and hiccuped, and giggled. "Thank you. I feel good. So good." Even the plug didn't feel so bad anymore. It almost felt like it--like it belonged. Like at any moment Fingon could have him again if he wanted. "I don't know if if I can w--walk," he said.

“It’s alright,” Fingon whispered. “Just wanted it in you for a little while. But I don’t think either of us wearing it while we ride is a good idea. Do you want me to take it out now?” He kissed Maedhros and pressed their foreheads together. “You were incredible, Russ. And I’ll never get tired of the sounds you make. Your hröa flatters me. I love you.” Fingon grinned. “Thank you for giving this to me, for giving yourself to me.” He tucked Maedhros’ hair back. “We can do anything you’d like. You know that, right? We can just lay here for a little while, or we can make another sandwich, or we can start walking and searching for the horses….”

"Um," Maedhros said, blinking around at the world. "Just. Here. For a bit?" he asked softly, wrapping his arms around Fingon. He just wanted to enjoy this. At least until the world sort of settled. "Safe. Warm. Tyë melin."

Fingon smiled, snuggling close. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.” He framed Maedhros’ face and began threading his fingers through his husband’s tousled hair. “I love thee. I love taking care of you, love having you as mine. And,” he blushed, “I love being your boy, your--your princess. I like being yours.” Fingon relaxed against him and they stayed remained like that, with the warmth of the early afternoon heating the ground around them.

Maedhros hummed, his body alive with love and sated arousal. "I love that t-too. This hasn't made me love it less. Just--more--equals," he whispered as they lay against one another, as he slowly came back to himself. As if deciding something, he drew in a deep breath and gave a long, loud whistle, which the wind carried away. "May I have my trousers back before the horses get here?" he asked, smiling.

“Equals is good,” Fingon murmured. “And of course. You don’t need to ask, love. I’m… I’m done playing, for now. Just want to be with my wonderful husband.” Fingon sighed and sat up, eyes dancing. “I know, I know and I’ll never forget it, but it still takes my breath away to call you husband. It thrills me, it amazes me, and it feel so right, Russ. Though, admittedly, I’d gotten quite used to calling you my betrothed.” He reached into his pack, digging for their trousers and untying their boots.

Maedhros grinned. "Well, we have nine years, nine times ninety-nine, and thousands more, to get that habit out of you," he said. "Love you. And if--if we're done playing--maybe could you take this thing out of me before I--? Well I mean unless you want to go again." He rolled over, baring himself to Fingon. "Please?"

“Of course. Sorry. Unless you want to go again--but then, if you do we don’t really need it for that. Though this was a nice surprise. Thank you for making it for us.” He grinned, patting Maedhros’ flank before beginning to ease the plug out.  “Little more. Easy-- just relax. There!” He held it up in victory before stepping to the water, rinsing it off and carefully wrapping it in one of their packs. “Did you want a sandwich or an apple or something?” Fingon asked as he passed over a waterskin.

Maedhros winced as his body adjusted to being empty and he lay there for a few moments quietly before easing himself into a sitting position and took the water. "I, ah, please." He put a hand over his stomach. "I think I'm rather hungry now. Anything." He looked up at a thundering. "I think the horses are coming. We better hide the apples," he teased.

“Eat one, then,” Fingon said, tossing an apple to his husband. “And I’ll put the others away. Oh-- and trousers. Here-- lift a leg?” Fingon helped slip them onto his lover before grabbing his own trousers and sliding them on. “Are you ready to set off for the cabin, a hot meal, a warm bath, and a large bed?” He ruffled Maedhros’ hair. “And perhaps we could go star gazing on the roof again? Either tonight or tomorrow evening or whenever?”

"I am, yes. Thank you," Maedhros said, crunching the apple as Fingon helped him to dress. "Both. We'll stargaze all we want. I'd move the bed on the roof if you asked me to. And I'll ride as fast as I can," he said, rubbing his backside gingerly and grinning.

“I don’t want you hurt,” Fingon murmured, moving around him to massage his rear. “Please promise you’ll tell me if you’re uncomfortable? And I’ll promise to do the same.” Fingon shifted lightly. “Feels… strange, having been open for so long.” He shrugged. “Not bad, but different. My body remembers what you do to me,” Fingon added with a laugh. “Here they come--what took you two so long?” He ran the last few yards to the horses, wrapping his arms around his mare's neck. "Hey there! Did you have a nice time?"

"I will always tell you if I'm hurt--and you'll know," Maedhros said, clasping Fingon's hands before turning to the horses. "Hullo!" he told them, giving the core of the apple to his nosey mare. And then _she_ made some joke about why he needed her when he was having such fun riding Fingon and Maedhros bopped her on the nose indignantly. "That's the last apple you get from me, you meddlesome hussy!" he told her affectionately. "Just for that--" he heaved his bags across her back and secured them around her chest.

Fingon laughed. “Are you two ready?” He patted his horse affectionately. “And you- there you are!” He grinned jogging over to the pack horse. “Hey, darling. Ready to get back to civilization? Well, sort of?” He finished attaching his gear and mounted his ride. “Shall we husband, ladies?”

"I'm ready," Maedhros said, swinging himself up onto his mare. They let them run wild as they wished, and slow when they wanted to walk. They adjusted the weight after a while when Maedhros' mare began to tire, but really she was just complaining. "At this rate we might reach the cabin before dark," Maedhros said as they picked up a quick clip again. "And I'm not in a bit of pain," he informed Fingon, who kept eyeing him nervously. "Are you?"

“I still feel a little strange, but not bad. Let’s try to keep a good pace!” He patted his horse as they continued along the shore. “I’d like to make it before dark if we can. Now, what have you ladies been up to for the past couple of days? Have you explored much?”

Aside from a budding romance between Fingon and Maedhros' mares (according to the talkative pack horse), their steeds had little to report, though once given the chance they talked and talked. Maedhros indulged them, for it gave him the opportunity to keep his eyes on Fingon, where they most wanted to be. They did make a few stops--Maedhros grew actually _hungry_ at one point and had to eat the last of the dry chicken meat they had with them--but otherwise kept up a swift pace, and in the end they arrived just as the light of the Trees dimmed enough to be overtaken by starlight.

“Just as lovely as I remember,” Fingon murmured as they pulled the packs off of their horses. “Thank you, ladies. That was perfect timing.” Covering a slight yawn, he glanced at his husband. “So… plans? I can go set up the washroom if you’d be interested in a bath after dinner. Well, more accurately, I’ll be taking one after dinner and I would love if you would join me.”

"Please," Maedhros said, toeing his boots off just inside the door. "But I'll follow you now for a quick wash up before I get cooking, if that's all right?" He dumped his bags in the bedroom on the way: "and you wouldn't mind unpacking things, would you?"

“Of course not. But let me know if you need help preparing dinner.” Fingon grinned, sliding his arms around Maedhros’ waist. “How about a quick shower together? Would that please thee?”

"I might need your help drinking a bottle of wine," Maedhros said, "and your company." At the mention of a shower he grinned, wrapping both arms around Fingon. "That would please me very much. Though I cannot promise it will be quick," he growled playfully, nipping the point of Fingon's ear.

“Hmmm. Will you promise otherwise?” Fingon asked, grinding against him. “Come on-- I’ll grab our brushes, and I think our brothers left clean clothes and robes in the closet-- let get that shower!” He stopped at the packs briefly, and made his way into the washroom to start the water and wait for it to heat up. Everything in the cabin had been prepared for their arrival, and he grinned, grabbing shampoo and conditioner and setting them at the edge of the shower.

"This seems to be in order," Maedhros said, inspecting the place like he would inspect a military camp. "Though we'll know for sure when I see the larder--oh, no," he growled, picking up a jar by the edge of the bed: inside was a fragrant, fine oil, and the tag said 'With Love, For Love, From Kano, Tyelko, & Irissë.' Maedhros groaned, imagining them tittering obnoxiously about it and discussing their private life far more than was comfortable, but the gift seemed good.

“What were they thinking of when they set that out?” Fingon pondered aloud. “And do we even want to know? Come on-- the water’s warmed up.” Fingon dropped his travel clothing in the corner and stepped into the shower with a sigh. “Alright, I’ll miss the hot spring, but this is fantastic. Lovely temperature controlled water pounding down on me.”

"You do like things pounding down on you, don't--you--" Maedhros laughed, "I can't believe I just said that," he said, slightly horrified as he divested himself of his clothes and joined Fingon in the shower. "Look what married life is doing to me. Just wait until I say something like that in front of someone!"

Fingon giggled. “I’m sure you’re expression afterwards will be hilarious!” He stepped forward, pressing himself against his cousin and turned them so that Maedhros stood under the spray. “Don’t worry-- I’m sure you’ll be fairly appropriate in public. Though I am enjoying seeing this… less controlled side of you while we’re together.” He kissed the tip of Maedhros’ nose. “I love you, my prince.”

"I love you, my prince," Maedhros replied, chasing Fingon's lips and kissing them tenderly. "And I very much enjoy that I do not _have_ to be controlled when I am with you anymore. I feel as if the weight of ll Ea has been lifted from my shoulders whenever we are together." He squeezed Fingon tightly.

“Good,” Fingon said softly. He ran his hands along his husband’s wet skin. “You do so much- if I can ease your burden at all I am glad.” He pulled Maedhros’ head down and kissed him deeply. “Now… care to share why you thought this shower take a while? I’m sure we aren’t _that_ filthy from a day’s travel.”

"Well," Maedhros said, pressing Fingon softly against the wall of the shower. "It's been at least six hours since I've had my hands on you. And I think we'll both require very intimate cleaning from this morning. Who first?" He grinned ferally.

“Weeeell… you went first this morning, so I suppose it’s my turn. Be gentle?” he asked. “After all, it has been a hard day of walking and riding and, ah, riding.” He grinned and kissed Maedhros again. “How would you like me?”

"Just--like--this--" Maedhros said, punctuating his words with kisses as gentle as rain. "Turn around for me," he whispered, facing Fingon toward the wall and kicking his legs apart. "I will be very gentle," he said, planting a kiss on Fingon's wet shoulder and dropping to his knees. "Hold still for me." He spread Fingon's cheeks, inspecting his entrance for redness or injury or signs of discomfort, and finding none, swiped his tongue flat across the area.

Fingon shuddered. “That feels good,” he whispered. “Everything looks fine?” He expected it to-- he wasn’t hurting anywhere. He just felt sore and lax and, with Maedhros kneeling behind him now, slightly aroused. He braced his arms against the wall and leaned forward, slightly, offering himself to his husband.

Yes. Everything looks wonderful. Especially with the water running down between his cleft and-- Maedhros closed his eyes, setting to his task by touch and taste alone before he could get too distracted. His tongue slid inside him easily, for Fingon remained well-stretched (Maedhros was not yet certain his flesh was not made of elastic), and he thrust his tongue in and out, lips and teeth working the surrounding area.

“Nnnngnnngh. Russss.” Fingon moaned, pressing his cheek against the cool stone of the wall. “Feels good, darling. Your mouth it fantastic.” His hips thrust back slightly, trying to get more of Maedhros’ tongue inside of him. “Thank you. Love you.” Everything was warm and pleasant and steamy, and the only thing Fingon could think was that he was amazed by his ability to keep standing as Maedhros drove him to distraction.

Think I can make you come like this? Or would you prefer another way? Maedhros queried, glad to see, to _feel_ Fingon coming undone as much as he was undone earlier.

I never doubted it. Fingon moaned low in his throat and his hips shifted again, trying to press his arousal against the wet, polished stone of the wall, and then moving back into Maedhros’ warm mouth and hands. Feels good. Feels incredible. His desire built slowly this time, but it was no less powerful. And through gentle touches and licks Maedhros brought him as much pleasure as he did when pinning his husband against a tree. “Russ,” Fingon whimpered softly as he felt his cousin’s tongue moving deeper again in quick, soft thrusts. So good. So good. Already building, getting close.

Maedhros tapped his legs to walk him further out, and keeping his cheeks spread with one hand Maedhros reached up to massage his balls and feel his hardness, though his tongue did not cease its careful work. I want to make sure you are clean everywhere, Maedhros told him, as he began to slide his hand up and down Fingon's length, protecting it from the hard and unforgiving tiles.

Fingon’s legs shook. So thorough, vennonya. You take such good care of me- thank you. He rocked lightly, unable to stop, and pressed his face harder against the cool stone, turning his face to press his other cheek and his forehead against it. Thankyouthankyouthankyou. More? If you want me to finish. I could stay like this, though. Feels good. Soft. Comfortable.

I do want you to finish, Maedhros begged. I want to lick your seed off the tiles where you spend. He squeezed the flesh in both hands, his tongue probing to new depths.

“Close,” Fingon groaned. “Now? May I now?” He sensed no desire for him to hold back through their bond or through Maedhros’ hands on him. He rocked forward into his husband’s hand and spilled, moving sluggishly and legs beginning to wobble dangerously. Everything felt slow and relaxed, and he sighed in contentment. ‘s good. Nice. Love you.

Maedhros held him up as he spent, an almost lazy affair, and licked and kissed his way back out, nipping gently at the flesh of his backside. "Good, good," he said, "thank you, thank you." And as he steadied Fingon he _did_ lick the side of the shower where Fingon's orgasm plainly showed, except for where-- "Euh!" he said, jolting back slightly, and laughed, spitting. "Soap. It tastes like soap." Laughing, he got to his feet and kissed Fingon, rinsing them both off and turning off the tap.

“Wait—I-- your turn? Did you want me to wash your hair or clean you like that?” Fingon turned and leaned heavily against the shower, gazing up at Maedhros’ adoringly and still not entirely coherent. Everything felt warm and soft and tingly. He blinked at his husband.

"You can owe me," Maedhros said with a smile, scooping Fingon into his arms and drying him off while he held him steady against him. "You could also take a quick nap if you like," he suggested, toweling off his hair and lifting Fingon, this time wrapped in a warm robe, into his arms. "Just make sure you join me at some point." He kissed Fingon's damp hair.

“Wake me if I fall asleep?” Fingon asked. “And-” he yawned, “wake me up in time and I’ll help you with plates and silverware and setting up for dinner.” He relaxed against Maedhros. “’m tired,” he admitted. “But I can stay up and help if you want me too. Otherwise laying down would be nice. I think I’d like to curl up on the couch by the fireplace.”

"Make me carry you all the way in there I see," Maedhros teased, without a hint of malice, kissing Fingon lightly across his precious face as his eyelids drooped. He brought him into the front sitting room, in sight of the kitchen, and there laid him down, covering him with a light blanket and kissing him. "Good night, my Finno," he whispered, kissing him again and standing up. He did hope Fingon at least dozed, as he had a bit of a surprise for him, which he retreated to the bedroom and his bags to recover: it was an apron Caranthir had made for him ("Never you mind what it's _for_ , Carnister," he'd told him when he'd asked for it to be made rather too small to fit him properly), and now he put it on he almost felt silly--especially with nothing on underneath, but Fingon would probably find it sexy, the way it revealed most of his thighs, tied so the bow rested at the top of his cleft, and showed his nipples when he moved. It was pure white, and not made of particularly thick cloth, either.

Fingon was asleep when he stole back into the main room, luckily, so Maedhros set about raiding the larder (Tyelko was to be praised: everything was in order, and the selection of wines particularly fine) and getting the stove going. Tonight was to be Fingon's favorites: macaroni pie, green beans with lemon and pepper, stuffed mushroom hors d'oevres to go with the wine, and hot chocolate for dessert. Oh, and cookies. He had work to do.


	8. Chapter 8

Fingon woke to the delicious smells drifting into the sitting room. He grinned, curling up in his blanket happily, and sent a questioning poke along their bond. Russandol? How is everything? I’m a-awake (mostly) (sort of). D’you need a hand? He stretched his legs straight before tucking them in, again, and ducking his head halfway beneath the blanket.

Maedhros laughed out loud. "Ah, you're so cute when you're still waking up. I only need help drinking the wine, so take your time," he said. The pie was in the oven, cookie dough was chilling, the beans stir frying, and he was just filling the mushroom caps with deliciousness. "Mushrooms are almost done, and I'll need help eating those," he added. He poured Fingon a glass of wine and set it by.

“Mushrooms!” Fingon exclaimed excitedly. He sniffed the air, trying to discern what Maedhros was doing with them. I’ll be out in a minute. He yawned and closed his eyes, resting in a half-asleep state for several minutes, until the smells drove him to get up. “May I join you out there?”

"Please," Maedhros said, filling the last of the mushroom caps before turning to to his green beans. "There's wine for you, and I'm just about done here." The beans still had a bit of a crunch, so he reduced the heat on them to wait. "How was your nap?"

Fingon stretched and wandered into the kitchen still wrapped in the blanket. "It was goo-oh! Valarfuck, Russ! What are you _wearing_?" Fingon stepped towards him, pulled in and staring at the small bit of fabric artfully _not_ hiding his cousin from view. Maedhros was going to kill him; his hröa couldn't take surprises like this. But he loved it.

Maedhros smiled a bit sheepishly and struck a pose. "Too much? Or not enough, rather?" He asked.

"Heart stopping. Breath catching." Fingon looked up at him, meeting his husband's eyes. "Will you turn for me?"

"I suppose the socks rather ruin it, but my feet got cold," Maedhros laughed. He turned, arms out, hair tossing. "Like that?" he grinned shyly, but before Fingon could answer: "Here. Try the wine," he said, handing Fingon a glass and setting the tray on the counter between them.

Fingon took a glass and sipped at it, unable to look away from Maedhros. "Wonderful," he acknowledged, raising his glass. "And dinner smells delicious! May I ask what we're having? Besides mushrooms, of course!"

"Well, those green beans you like, and macaroni pie is in the oven," Maedhros said, unable to keep from grinning. "And cookies. And we can have hot cocoa on the roof after. Oh! I also put together a salad, since we weren't eating much in the way of green things while camping." He beamed proudly.

Maedhros had every right to be proud. "That sounds delicious. Smells delicious-- you're spoiling me again arimelda." Smiling, Fingon leaned in for a kiss, unable to stop his hands from drifting down and tracing over his husband's nipples, just visible over the edge of his apron.

Maedhros huffed and wriggled, pressing into the stimulation as he wrapped his arms around Fingon. "I love nothing more than spoiling you," he said, "and I will continue to do so as long as you allow me. Now, I was conflicted as to where we should eat. I think it's too warm to eat by the oven, as we did all those years ago, if you remember, but we could eat at the table--or perhaps outside if you want to light a few lanterns."

"I'll set up the lanterns," Fingon said with a grin. He quickly set up lights and silverware, and when he came back in Maedhros' back was to him. He moved forward silently, drawn to Maedhros' muscled back and enticingly displayed rear and his adorable sock clad feet. Fingon slid his arms around his jusband's waist, hands tweaking his nipples as Fingon pressed against his back and ground against him. The light robe he wore did little to hide his interest as Fingon pressed them together with a groan.

"Mm," Maedhros hummed, rocking back against him. "The apron's having the desired effect, then." He smiled, laid his arms over Fingon's. "But we better wait until after supper. Unless--fifteen minutes is enough time?"

Inhaling sharply, Fingon pinched him. "I bet we can make it work," he said breathlessly. Especially if they stayed where Maedhros could keep an eye on dinner. He tucked his chin on his husband's shoulder. "I would like you to have me again tonight, but for now- since you've worn such a flattering apron for me- may I have you? Right here?" There was oil out in the kitchen that Maedhros had been cooking the noodles with, and Fingon was wearing a robe that tied in the front. If he opened it they could just- he sent Maedhros the image, nibbling on the spot where shoulder met neck.

Maedhros grinned, heart fluttering at the vision of Fingon having him right here in the middle of the house, in his skimpy little apron and Fingon still wearing his robe. "This has had precisely the desired effect," he murmured, backing up to the counter where there weren't any dirty dishes or hot pots to worry about, and reverently coated Fingon's fingers in oil (he would never pour oil into a pot again without thinking of this) before turning and laying himself over the counter, hair over one shoulder, legs spread (and slipping further apart, damn those socks). "Like this?"

Fingon squeezed his hip, incapable of speech. He wanted Russ to remember this every time he cooked. And he wondered if he could ever eat a meal without thinking of this. "Perfect. Just like that, doll. Let me-- let me know if you need anything. This has to be fast, right?" Fingon reached down, sliding his fingers into Maedhros. "I'll ever grow tired of this," he whispered. "You open up like I belong in you."

"Need you," Maedhros said, craning his neck to watch Fingon work. He stuck his tongue out when he was concentrating, and he was doing that now. Being opened again felt good, felt right. "Only ever need you."

"Good?" He asked, giving him a cursory stretching with a third finger. Fingon untied his robe and drizzled oil directly into his arousal before moving forward. "You look delectable, darling." He nipped at Maedhros' ear. "I simply _must_ have you." Bracing his hands on the countertop Fingon fitted himself against his cousin's back and thrust in with a long, smooth movement that wrenched a cry from his own lips.

Maedhros gasped, but released the air in what he hoped passed as a manly moan. "I, ah," he said, or tried to say, "my desire was to provide you with your favorite dish--nn--es. I hope that this ah--additionally satisfies you," he said, lying flat across the counter and stretching his arms before him, arching his back and making himself a long and tempting target, broken up only by the bow low on his waist.

"Rr _uuuussss_!" Fingon thrust forward, hands slipping to grasp Maedhros' arms, grounding himself with his husband's body. RussRussRussRuss _Russ_! He thrust in, shifting his hips once he was fully embedded and rolling against the spot inside that had Maedhros crying out. "Love you. Love this. You -ah- succeeded, love." I'm satisfied. I'm so happy. Hope you're pleased. Hope you like this half as much as I do. Fingon moved one hand and grabbed Maedhros' hair, yanking his head back roughly. "Do you like that, melda? Such a perfect doll for me."

"Uh!" Maedhros screamed, back arching and head snapping back, open-mouthed, his spine tingling all the way up and back down. He almost began to /like/ being called doll--except for how it screwed with his head, made him dizzy with lust and wanting to be small, to be meek, to belong to Fingon--unless he liked that, too. "Ai Findekannooohhh!" he yelped, all dignity gone (he was wearing a skimpy little apron and woolen socks, what dignity did he think he had left?) as he began thrusting back and forth helplessly, cock trapped against the unforgiving marble counter.

Fingon twisted the hand in his hair. "That's it. Perfect, doll. Want to hear you scream for me." He pounded into Maedhros. "So gorgeous, my darling. In your white socks and your little apron. Tell me, who made it for you?" He nuzzled against Maedhros' neck and then bit. "Who knew you were going to do this for me? That you were going to put on a show for me in an apron so small I could play with your nipples and pound into you in your kitchen while you cooked for us?" He grinned, slipping a hand between them and grasping his husband firmly. "So hard for me, doll. You like this a lot, don't you? I want you to dress up like this for me at our house. I'll walk into the kitchen and see you, and I won't be able to keep my hands off you. I'll take you from behind while you're tossing a salad or trying to write out a recipe on the countertop. Would you enjoy that?"

"Ai, fuck!" Maedhros cried, completely at the mercy of Fingon's touch and his _words_ and loving every minute of it. He followed his imagination only a very little ways (Fingon, while pounding him steadily, wouldn't allow him his release until he finished writing the recipe, and he kept throwing them on the floor and making him begin again if he made a mistake) before he was drawn forcibly back to what was happening to him _now_ : Fingon having him so completely, and Maedhros so willingly giving himself, and _loving_ it. He was clawing at the marble like a restless cat. "No one!" he blurted out. "No one knew--" though they might have guessed, "Moryo made it. I asked him to make it. And--yes--yes, I'll wear it always. Often, I mean," he corrected, blushing, and bucking as Fingon struck him in a sensitive spot.

Chuckling, Fingon petted Maedhros’ hair. “Good. I’m glad.” He continued his poudng thrusts, protecting Maedhros’ arousal as they rocked forward up the counter. He nipped at Maedhros’ ear. “How long do we have, arimelda? How much longer can I play with your hroa? You do give me the most amazing gifts.”

"I--I don't--" Do you mean before the pie burns or before I come all across this kitchen? Not that he could tell time right now, either way (that was kind of a lie, they had at least five minutes before the pie needed to come out, and it needed to cool). Maedhros whined, wincing at the pushing and pulling, shoulders drawing together and cock filling to bursting at Fingon's display of power and his roughness. "Ai! Uh!" he cried in ecstasy, unable to form coherent speech, the sound echoing in the house.

“That’s it. Want you screaming for me darling.” Fingon thrust again, roughly, and Maedhros feet left the floor momentarily. “I tell you want doll, you get to decide when you finish this time. When you’re ready, you can tell me by screaming for me loud enough that the horses can hear you wherever they’ve gotten to outside. Do you understand?” He licked at the bruises lining Maedhros’ neck. “You don’t come until you ask for it. And you ask for it by begging me at the top of your lungs. And if I’m ready, I’ll have mercy and let you finish. Because I love you very much and I want you limp and sated under me. Does that sound like a good plan, doll?”

Maedhros whined, and was almost glad Fingon couldn't see how he was pouting. "Please!" he said, loudly, but definitely not loud enough. "Want--need to--" he bit his lip. He couldn't say it! Maybe he could just-- and he rutted helplessly into Fingon's hand and back against him in an attempt to move things along.

Fingon stilled within him, pinning Maedhros and lying atop him. “I can barely hear you, doll. I don’t think you’re ready to come if that’s all you have to give me.” He began moving again, but the hand on Maedhros’ arousal remained still- caging him and preventing friction without allowing any relief. “You’re running out of time, love. I’m going to have to get up and take care of the pie. And you’ll have to lie here waiting for me, not moving, not finishing. Do you understand?” He licked at Maedhros, and tugged on his hair. “Understand, arimeldanya?” This is alright, isn’t it? It’s not going to far? You have to tell me if it is- you can tell me, remember. I’d never be disappointed. We just both find pleasure another way. But if you’re alright with what we’re doing… I’m so enjoying this surprise, doll. You’re so good to me.

Oh fuck me yes stop _asking_ me that can't you _feel_ how much I'm enjoying this I'm not supposed to enjoy this fuck fuck fuck fuck I need to you need to please need to you have to get the pie don't leave stay go it's okay I'm good I'll be good I'll be right here won't move won't speak just waiting for you need you hurts need to need to need to--

Even inside, even in thought, Maedhros couldn't say it. It was filthy, perhaps, or a weak admission, or something, and his face flushed at the thought of screaming it at the top of his lungs. One leg kicked weakly and the other slipped on the smooth floor, and he clung to the countertop as if for dear life and whined, pressing his lips together. He was very dizzy, and he screwed his eyes shut, pressing his cheek to the cool counter.

Fingon stepped back, pulling Maedhros with him. “Hands on the edge of the counter. There, like that. And legs a little wider. Good.” Fingon patted Maedhros’ rear and pulled back with a groan. “Don’t move.” With that final direction he moved away, wandering across the kitchen half naked and exposed to pull out his husband’s pie and set it to cool. He stopped as he turned back to Maedhros, holding the counter tightly on the other side of the kitchen. His husband was bent over, back to the ceiling and legs spread wide while he gripped the closest edge of the counter and looked down at the floor. “You look like you’re just waiting for me, doll.” Fingon walked back over, still wearing an oven mitt, and pulled his husband back onto him before stepping forward and allowing Maedhros to rest against the counter again.

Maedhros was tight and shaking with need, and vulnerable and far too aroused for his own good, and _empty_ , so woefully empty it almost _hurt_ (he would have laughed at his younger self who had thought he would not have enjoyed this, except there was nothing funny about how much he _needed_ this right now) and he whimpered gratefully when Fingon returned. "Waiting," he agreed. "Good." Maybe Fingon would forget or change his mind about the shouting thing? He didn't do shouting. Shouting was reserved for when his little brothers were in trouble or during an argument in court, _not_ to express wanton pleasure. He could barely _talk_ about this! He swallowed hard, breathing harshly through his nose: "Please?" he begged, wanting Fingon to fill him again.

Fingon slid home. He brushed Maedhros’ hair to one side and pressed the softest kiss against the back of his husband’s neck. “Here. Always. And you’re so very good.” He needed this, needed to finish, but the short break had helped Fingon to settle, and he began a gentle motion this time, rocking against Maedhros long and smooth as he wrapped his hand around Maedhros’ again. “You can come,” he whispered, tightening his hand as he finished the statement. “All you have to do is scream for me, doll. Let the horses and every animal out there know how much you yearn for me, how desperately you need me to let you finish.” He laid his teeth over Maedhros’ shoulder, but did not bite down. He left the teeth just barely touching his skin, waiting for Maedhros to let him know how great his need was, how desperate he was growing.

Maedhros squirmed, huffing helplessly. "I--" he began, testing his voice. Fingon could wring it out of him, could hurt him or drive him crazy, but that would be too easy. "Findekáno, _please_!" He shouted, not nearly loud enough, and winced, unimpressed with himself.

“That was a _little_ better,” Fingon admitted. “But still… that’s how much you want me? That’s how much you need me?” Fingon rubbed his face against Maedhros’ shoulder. “But… that’s hardly needing this, needing me, at all.” He gave a sad, halfhearted thrust and shifted, wrapping his free arm around Maedhros’ chest to play across the edge of the apron, dipping his fingers slightly lower or moving up to flick at a hardened nipple. “Should I be worried?”

"No! Findekáno, please, I need you, I need--I can't--" I can't do this "I love you. I! LOVE! YOU!" There he had no trouble shouting that.

“Good, good, so good, so beautiful. Love to hear you dearest, darling. Want you screaming for me.” Fingon thrust into him hard, the apron bunching as Maedhros slid on the counter. “Now, tell me what you want. Just like that. Ask me to let you come and I will, darling. I would grant you anything you asked for like that. Tell me what you want, what you need. Say it and it’s yours. I’m yours.” I already am. Anything for you. No matter what happens, no matter where life takes us. I am yours, Russandol. I am yours as you are mine. My love, light, strength, courage, heart. My dearest Russ. My doll. My prince. The king of my heart. The best part of me. Russandol, darling. Beg me, please beg for me.

"Finno!!" He shrieked, and there, it was easy, anything was easy when Fingon hit him like _that_ "Fuck, Fin need to, want to--" and then it was too much and he was reduced to incoherent moaning and growling except when he saw stars and "FIN! Help me let me make me come OH please fuck me make me take me pull my hair in gonna I need to PLEASE VALARFUCKDAMNIT FINDEKÁNO LET ME COME PLEASE!" He begged until his voice cracked, and he wasn't sure how the next thing he did wasn't going to spending his brains out over the countertop with our without Fingon's permission.

Fingon yanked his hand back and grabbed Maedhros’ hair near the root, yanking and arching his lover’s body as he pounded faster with a sob. He started to stroke Maedhros quickly, firmly and with intent. “Russ,” he groaned, voice breaking. “My perfect love. Come for me. Finish for me, dearest. I want to feel you tightening around me as you spend. Now, doll. Finish for me now!” He bit at Maedhros, no longer controlling his thrusts as he started to move frantically against his husband.

Apparently, Maedhros had, in the end, still been holding back, for the cry he gave as he finished put all the others to shame, reverberating in the house and echoing outside, and Maedhros would have heard, if he wasn't deaf and blind to everything going on around him, the horses whinny in alarm outside. He thrust into Fingon's hand and tightened around him impossibly hard, and the hand in his hair hurt _so good_ and then it was over, and he was limp against the counter, panting and unable to move, overwhelmed by bliss and relief and love. Most of all love.

Fingon fell over the edge just behind his husband, continuing to thrust into him and trying to drag out Maedhros' pleasure. When he finished he whimpered, held fast within his husband’s hroa. “Russ. Russss. S-sso good.” He swallowed roughly, and when he pulled free he slid to his knees behind Maedhros, running careful hands over him until he reached his entrance. Maedhros was red and open and looked utterly vulnerable, but he did not appear to be in pain. Fingon stood, and moved Maedhros, who was limp and compliant under his command. He put an arm under his husband’s knees and lifted him, cradling him close. “Didn’t mean to be so hard, precious darling.” Fingon kissed the top of his head as he carried his husband to the couch, laying him on the cushions and kneeling next to him. “Are you alright?” he asked, brushing an escaping bit of hair behind Maedhros’ ear. “I can finish setting up dinner if you’d like to rest for a while. You were… spectacular, Russandol. Have you studied in ways to undo me further each time we make love?” He grinned, kissing Maedhros’ nose, content to rest next to him, petting his husband softly and playing with his hair.

"N-no," Maedhros said, slightly confused as to how he had gotten on the couch. "Don't go--'m all right," he slurred, legs and arms still twitching faintly. He was very tired, and very warm and fuzzy. "That was--good--'mazing. Feels good." He held onto Fingon's wrist, but his grip was tired. "Stay?"

“Always,” Fingon whispered. “I’d never leave you.” He relaxed next to the couch, continuing his play of fingers across Maedhros’ skin. “Just let me know what you want. Though there’s no need to scream it this time,” he added with a fond smile, ruffling his husband’s hair. He wondered who else tousled his hair- he couldn’t see many of their siblings doing that to Maedhros. He mussed it again for good measure.

Maedhros smiled stupidly, gazing up at Fingon with awe and admiration and love. He seemed so--big, and important, and special, and wonderful--and Maedhros _knew_ all these things to be true. He opened his mouth, croaked awkwardly, and then blushed, and coughed to clear his throat. "Want--think I want--to not wear this apron anymore. It's too exhausting," he laughed.

“Do you want to wear my robe?” Fingon asked with a grin. “Or perhaps nothing at all?” His smile widened. “Just a moment- I’ll be right back, darling. Just think on that.” He squeezed Maedhros’ hand and slipped away, walking quickly across the room and into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and returning. He sank to his knees again beside Maedhros. “Can you sit up, just a little, and have a drink?”

"I'm _fine_ ," Maedhros growled, grumping slightly at what he felt was unnecessary coddling, but he got up on one elbow and accepted the water gratefully. "Can you--um--can we go get my robe?" he asked sweetly, swinging his legs off the couch. He could do this.

Fingon looked up at him. “Would you do me a great favor if I request it of you?”

Maedhros looked at him. "Of course," he said, brow wrinkling slightly.

Fingon shifted, grabbing Maedhros’ legs and tossing them back onto the couch. “Relax,” he implored with a small smile. “I’ll get your robe and be right back. If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for me. It would please me to know that you’re comfortable. I know that you’re capable of moving, but it soothes my mind and heart to know that you’re lying back while I take care of you for at least a few minutes. Especially when you’ve just shared something so incredible with me.” He kissed Maedhros’ brow and squeezed his wrist.

"But--" Maedhros said, and went soft and vulnerable inside again, and looked down: it _wasn't_ about him being fine, it was about him being not-fine, inasmuch as he was just needy and wanting. He fixed Fingon with a pleading stare: "But I don't want you to _leave_. Not even for a second. Not yet. Would rather use the blanket. Or--or just wait here, with you--til we can go together. Please?"

“I’ve got an idea. Just trust me.” He shifted Maedhros and untied the apron, gently pulling it off him. “Put your arms around my neck.” He smiled and lifted Maedhros into his arms again, one arm under his cousin’s knees. With only a small exhale he stood and walked them into the bedroom in search of Maedhros’ robe.

"Finno," Maedhros breathed, marveling at his husband's strength, and kissed his neck lightly. "Thank you. Sorry. You're the best." He _coul_ d walk. He just didn't want to right now. "I think it's in there--" he pointed to his clothes pack.

Nodding, Fingon began sorting through the pack, eventually pulling out Maedhros’ robe. He walked over and flopped onto the bed beside his cousin. “Good evening,” he said with a smile, snuggling against Maedhros. “Your robe, my prince.”

Maedhros grinned, throwing an arm around Fingon and nuzzling him. "Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you," he said, peppering him with kisses, laughing almost before growing serious. "You are so good to me. I--I enjoyed--just now-- _very_ much. Only I want to make sure I didn't--that nothing we did--frightened you? Some of the things I like are unusual and I do not want you to do something you do not like just to make me happy."

Pressing closer, Fingon held Maedhros while he considered his answer. “I liked it,” he said finally. “I like taking you just as much as I love you taking me. And I enjoy taking control for a game just as I like it when you do the same.” He kissed Maedhros. “The only thing that worries me is you doing something you don’t like just to make me happy-- I need to make sure I’m keeping an eye on the bond, so to speak, to know that you are enjoying things the way I am.”  He stole another kiss. “Thank you for trusting me enough to do that. And for screaming for me. Thank you for a _very_ enjoyable way to wake up.” He leaned close to Maedhros’ ear. “And I’m not sure you liking that was terribly unusual. Though I’m not about to play the voyeur to try to find out how common or uncommon it is.”

Maedhros laughed, admitting the absurdity of the statement. "All right--you had better not!" he said, slinging an arm around the back of Fingon's neck and pulling him to him. "Honestly, though--and I _know_ this is uncommon: I _like_ when you make me do things I don't want to do," he confessed, blushing slightly. "It--well, first of all, I trust you never to make me do anything I truly would not enjoy--and second, mainly, it reminds me of your power over me. I like that feeling. Does that make any sense?"

Fingon nodded, hand winding through Maedhros’ hair. “It does. Of course it does arimeldanya. I-- it’s not exactly the same as for you, because mostly my primary want is to please you, but I enjoy the same. Trying to stay still while you draw because you want me to and you told me to, or walking through the forest wearing a plug because you asked it of me.” He shrugged. “It’s a good feeling. I agree, and I quite like it. And I like feeling that I’m driving you mad with desire. I like watching you let go before me.” He kissed Maedhros lightly and stretched. “Do you want me to carry you back out and see about finishing up dinner? I could carry you to the kitchen counter and you could direct me,” he suggested with a grin. “Or I can just give you an extra pair of hands whenever you can use them.”

"I think that's a bit more reasonable," Maedhros said, after embracing Fingon and kissing him again. "I do think I can walk, as much as I appreciated and even preferred your assistance--" he slid gingerly off the bed and tied his robe. "I will gladly accept your help setting the table," he added, reaching for him, "and in the meantime I would not begrudge a walking aid, as overwhelmed as I find myself by your, ah, prowess."

Fingon blushed and nudged Maedhros' shoulder. "Russ!" he protested, voice rising in pitch. He coughed lightly. "You're the amazing one." He gave his husband a hand up and looped an arm about his waist as they returned to the kitchen. Fingon's stomach growled.

Maedhros grinned, wrapping an arm around Fingon's shoulders and leaning in for a kiss. They set dinner out, with lids to keep the heat in, on the table on the back porch. It was a cool night, but not yet cold. The horses were staring. "Oh, hush," Maedhros told them. "You've never heard two grown, wed Eldar make love before? Off with you, I threw the veg scraps out the kitchen window."

Fingon giggled and sipped at his wine. "What first?" Steam rose as he lifted one of the covers and he inhaled happily. Mushroomsmushroomsmushrooms. Mushrooms mushrooms mushrooms. He swallowed, salivating at the scent, and looked at Maedhros, who was staring at him. Mush mush mush. Roooooms. Mushrooms. "What?"

"Well, the mushrooms _were_ meant as appetizers," Maedhros said, sliding the plate toward Fingon and taking a few for himself. "Have as many as you like," he said, gingerly working to cut the still-hot pie, placing a slice on each of their plates. Glad of his long reach, Maedhros laid a bed of greens in the bowl beside Fingon's plate and drizzled them with oil (no, no, he would never look at oil the same way again) and spices, and finally nestled the flavored green beans next to (but not touching, as Fingon had special rules about food touching) the pie.

Fingon sucked on his first mushroom and made a noise that sounded like or should have been reserved for the bedroom. "I _love_ your cooking," Fingon said, moaning in appreciation. He carefully picked up one of the beans, keeping it well away from the piecrust, and ate that as well. "You are extremely talented, arimelda." He grinned. "Mushroom?" Popping another into his mouth he leaned over the table, offering the treat—at least half of it-- with a kiss.

Maedhros smiled, leaning forward indulgently, and pressed their lips together as he bit the mushroom in half. "You are very welcome. You know I love cooking for you." He started in on his pie and beans quickly, not wanting them to get cold.

Following his lead, Fingon demolished the meal quickly. "I guess we really didn't ear that much today," he admitted, munching on a mushroom happily. "I'm stuffed!" Nevertheless he grabbed another mushroom, sucking on it before biting down. "What so you want to do next? After we clean up?"

Maedros grinned. "Well, I can think of one or two things," he said, gathering dishes to take them inside, and draining the last of his wine. "We could sit on the couch together--where we first--ah--" Maedhros made himself blush at the memory, and quickly moved on. "Or we could go on the roof. I'm not entirely sure I'm ready for dessert yet," he said, laying a hand on his belly. "We could play a game? Chess or something, or that bath, or--" he really just wanted his hands on Fingon, he didn't care what they were doing.

"Why don't you think about it and decide what you want," Fingon said, leaning in and kissing him, "while I take care of the dishes. You cooked, so I'll clean."

"I--well--" Maedhros said, but gave in easily. There were few tasks he hated completing more than dishwashing. His hatred of dirty dishes taught him to clean, and dust, and change diapers, and sew (sort of), and feed children and animals, because he had always, since a young age, been trading dirty dishes for other chores, until his siblings learned to lay in wait by the dirty dishes whenever they needed a favor (because of course he couldn't just let them sit, either) (and he liked being helpful and he always hated seeing his parents do them). Though it was never something he stated out loud, Fingon seemed to have picked up on it. And it wasn't as if he was adverse to handling leftovers, or wiping up counters, or cleaning kitchens in general--which he now proceeded to do while-- "Wait," he said suddenly, and, laughing, fetched the apron which he slung around Fingon's body, over his robe. "Now it almost looks conservative on you!" he said, for it was quite long on him.

"I don't pull it off as well as you do," Fingon said with a laugh. He picked up a pan an studied himself in the mirrored bottom, striking a couple of poses. "Nope. Definitely looks better on you." He cleaned quickly, though he was careful to be thorough enough that Maedhros would not feel the need to redo anything later. "Well, any thoughts yet?" He practically danced around the kitchen, waving a cloth before using it to wipe off the counter where they had been playing earlier.

"I, ah--" Maedhros said--he had been rather distracted by Fingon prancing about the kitchen and could hardly think about anything else. "A bath? I would rather like to just relax with you. If that's not too boring? And we could watch the stars later on the roof. Or go for a walk. Or, ah, or just go to bed," he suggested with raised eyebrows. "I would like to read to you, maybe. Or have you read to me. Or we could sing." Maedhros realized that there was not actually _time_ for all the things he wanted to do tonight, and that this probably looked like he was trying to be accommodating. "But bath first?" he repeated.

Fingon nodded in agreement, snatches of their song humming across the bond as he worked. "I like the sound of that. And I'm almost finished." He set the cloth by the sink and looked around with a nod. Then he stepped forward, grabbing Maedhros' arms. Humming aloud and them softly singing, he started to spin them around the kitchen as their song, their melody, floated through the air and across the bond between them.

"Oh," Maedhros said, grinning as his arms folded instinctively around Fingon. "We're dancing now, then?" He was already humming along, swaying gently to the tune in their heads and only occasionally coming from their mouths. I love this. I love you. I want to dance with you where everyone can see us.

Fingon could have sworn he glowed at his husband's words. Thank you. Thank you. Inyë tyë-mela. I want to dance with you at the next family party vennonya. They spun across the floor and headed toward the washroom still dancing.

At any party you wish. I will dance with you in the marketplace, venno, Maedhros told him, grinning wildly as they waltzed into the washroom. He turned the handle to run the water hot, and threw salts and good-smelling oils into the water without looking at them. "I am glad we are here."

Fingon laughed freely, enjoying watching Maedhros act freely and without reserve. He quieted at the last statement enough to reply seriously, "As am I, meldanya. I am blessed." He smile widely, humor returning, and threw himself into Maedhros' arms spinning about as he grabbed a cloth for washing and soaps for their hair. "We'll have to dance more often. Perhaps all around our house- through the kitchen and the library, the guest rooms and the hallways, and even through our room, though of course that last dance will likely end on our bed."

Maedhros laughed. "Yes. We will dance through our house to christen it as ours." And with a final spin he locked Fingon in his arms, cradling his head in his crooked elbow, and dipped him backwards to kiss him. "Now," he said, when he set them upright, "I am sufficiently wearied and would bathe with you. And possibly nap," he teased, for of course he had no plans to sleep any time soon.

"Anything, as long as we're together," Fingon said promptly. He dipped a toe in the bath and moaned. "Water's perfect Russ." He kept hold of Maedhros' hand as he slid into the bath.

"Shove up," Maedhros said, interposing himself behind and pulling Fingon against him with a sigh. The water was warm--almost hot, and Fingon's skin was smooth and soft against him. "Mm, feels good. Love this. Love you." He wrapped his arms around Fingon and settled low in the water, closing his eyes.

Fingon relaxed against him, using Maedhros as a very warm and comfortable pillow. "Love you. This is very nice." He splashed lightly and closed his eyes. "Help me with my hair in a few minutes?"

"In a few minutes," Maedhros said, fanning Fingon's wet hair over him, giggling where it tickled him. "You feel so lovely. And I ache just the right amount," he informed him.

"'m glad." Fingon slid a hand down, behind them, and teased at Maedhros' entrance. "And I'm very pleased that you enjoyed that. That was… I half fear that every time you mention cooking or I see you in the kitchen I'll be thinking of that." He grinned, tilting his head back on Maedhros' shoulder.

"Mm," Maedhros moaned into the touch, half-wanting Fingon to continue except that he was far too relaxed. "The same for me." He slapped his face as his imagination ran away with him: "Now I'm imagining it in my _parents'_ house!" And he would be lying if he said the twitch of interest he managed wasn't related.

Fingon snorted loudly. "Well. We wouldn't be the first to, ah, desecrate public spaces there." He couldn't stop laughing, tucking his head against Maedhros as he recalled their rather unfortunate interruption of Celegorm and Aredhel. "Valar," he muttered, pressing his lips to Maedhros' neck. "Hmmm. We could violate the bathing area if we were there at a time when no one else was home. I love the sunken bath there-- and it's huge."

"Yes," Maedhros mused, his hands wandering shamelessly over Fingon's body. "I think that was where you promised you would try to fit your whole hand inside me, I think." He grinned. "Now that I've--I'm beginning to think it might be a bit beyond me," he confessed. "But we could still try."

"I did, didn't I?" He pressed a finger inside his husband before withdrawing. "Or you could try to do that to me sometime." Fingon grinned and shivered. "Would you like to put your whole hand within me?"

Maedhros nodded, eyes glazing before they clouded over. "But I--I'd worry about injuring you." He took Fingon's hand in his: "I mean no disrespect when I say my hands are much larger than yours."

Fingon squirmed. "They are," he admitted. "But you've been stretching me fairly often for years. And… I've almost taken your hand before. I can imagine it." His breath caught and he hummed against Maedhros' neck. He was slightly, pleasantly, aroused.

"We shall try, then," Maedhros smiled, pulling Fingon into his lap and wrapping his arms around him. "And we shall put you on a strict regimen of stretching leading up to it," he half-teased. "You _are_ so very--malleable," he said, tilting Fingon's head back and kissing him.

“Hmmm. I am, for you. And do you enjoy it?” Fingon squirmed until he flipped in the bath, lying against Maedhros chest to chest and grinning up at him.

"I do," Maedhros breathed, especially at the angle Fingon was so beautifully achieving, and he didn't need much more stimulation to grow hard. "Oh, I do." He grabbed a handful of Fingon's hair and tugged it lightly, to pull him tauter than a bow. "Mm, beautiful like this," he murmured, and reaching down he could palm at Fingon's backside and test him with his fingers. "So soft, so open for me."

“All yours,” Fingon whispered. He was warm and relaxed and half floating in the water. “Love this. Love you.” He smiled lazily, shifting against Maedhros’ fingers. “Tell me, what else you would like to do tonight? Did our siblings remember to bring the ingredients for your hot cocoa?”

"Yes. Yes. I also made cookies--your favorite." He continued to massage and penetrate Fingon, almost lazily. "I want to spoil _you_ tonight, vennonya. Will you tell me what you want? Especially, if you remember, since I was today unusually good at voicing my desires at your request?" He kissed him. "You have only to ask for a thing and I will give it to you."

“Hmmm… I want to hold you, or for you to hold me- I want to spend most of the evening touching you.” Fingon kissed him lightly. “And, perhaps we can have hot cocoa and cookies while we stargaze a little? That would be lovely. And then we could sit by the fire read for a little while before we head to bed.” He looked at Maedhros to see if his plans pleased him. “Perhaps… we’ve both been playing games throughout the day, perhaps we could go to bed and you could just take me gently but surely? Later if you want to be creative I could take you, and you’d hold on until I spent in you and then roll me over and take me.” He grinned and sighed happily, feet sloshing the water at the foot of the bath. “I’d be happy with anything, really, as long as it’s with you.”

Maedhros smiled, kissing him. "That sounds lovely--" but here he withdrew his fingers ashamedly. "I suppose I should stop this now, then?" he laughed.

“I don’t know.” Fingon shifted, clenching his entrance and feeling suddenly lost. “Unless you want to have me first? If I shifted up just a little you could probably slide in. We wouldn’t even have to move much.”

"I won't spill even a drop of water," Maedhros promised, kissing Fingon as he pulled him further up onto his lap. "Love you, love having you like this," he whispered, spreading Fingon's legs on either side of his lap and stretching him in earnest--though he didn't need it much.

“Love being yours like this. It feels like I was made for you, or you for me.” Fingon looked up and grinned. “Like I was made for you. Since you’re the oldest.” He kissed Maedhros and shook his head, hair cascading down his back. “Ugh. My hair’s _heavy_ when it’s wet. And of course yours still looks gorgeous.” He threaded a hand through Maedhros’ locks. 

"I could have been made for you--" Maedhros pointed out, "and Eru saw fit that I should prepare a way for you, and to teach me to love you by having me endure life without you so that I would know what I was missing." Gingerly Maedhros pulled Fingon's hair forward over his shoulder so he could press his face into it if he wished. "It's beautiful. Although--we could both do with a shampoo, I think. I still smell the sulfur from the hot spring." He focused more fingers below. "How do you feel? Loose enough? Or shall I carry on?"

“I-- I think I’m good. If you’re slick. Maybe… we can put some oil on you?” He wriggled atop Maedhros. “Love you, darling. And, since you were asking me to speak my desire to you, I would very much like to have you within me.”

Maedhros grinned, stupidly flattered by the admission. He slicked himself with bath oil and pulled Fingon atop him without much ado. "Mm, Fin, you feel perfect."

 

"Mmm. _You_ feel perfect." Fingon slumped down with a splash, relaxing entirely on top of his husband. "Love this. Love walking up like this. Love making love with you." He blinked up at Maedhros. "Do you regret not doing this this morning?" He shook his head slightly, clenching around Maedhros to give a physical demonstration of 'this'. "I very much enjoyed what we did. And I don't regret it, but a part of me was missing this."

"Of course I missed this," Maedhros hissed, trying not to move. "I miss you whenever we are not embracing. And I did have other plans for you today, had you not been so impatient," he teased without force, for he would not have changed the afternoon for the world. He kissed Fingon tenderly, and rolled his hips.

Fingon moaned, rocking lightly against his husband. “You’re so big, vennonya. You feel wonderful inside of me.” He sank down fully and rolled his hips in a figure eight. “Love the feel of you pressing against me inside. The marble and the plug are fun, but this… this is sacred. This is perfection. This is our hroar joining as perfectly as our fear do.”

"Ahh, Fin," Maedhros sighed, biting open-mouthed across his collar bones, eyes sliding shut and gripping Fingon firmly by the buttocks. "You are perfection, I am just participant." He let Fingon set their pace entirely, but "Tell me what you want. Tell me what to do, I like that," he teased: "let me worship you."

“Can you, can you play with my hair?” Fingon asked shyly. “And guide me when you want to- grab my waist or my rear and move me. I know you’re strong enough to do so.” Fingon thought, kissing Maedhros’ brow. “Mark me. If you worship me, then claim me as your own.” Bites or kisses or bruises on his hips, nail marks down his back just hard enough to be visible afterwards. “Perhaps later we can massage each other after a long day of hiking and riding, to make sure we’re entirely relaxed before we fall asleep.” He tentatively felt along their bond, trying to sense what Maedhros thought of his requests.

Maedhros huffed. "You know I rather have either an off our on switch. You mustn't jerk me back and forth between gentle and rough, I'm likely to get confused." Indeed, his thrusts were already growing harsher, though he spoke more in jest. "But I will worship you, and show my reverence on your body." Kissing Fingon, Maedhros raked his nails sharply down his back, relishing in the hiss as Fingon arched into him.

Sorry. Fingon's eyes slipped shut as he focused on Maedhros' nails and his movements within him. "Well, then... a little harder now, and just... gentle and relaxed later? Will that work alright with your completely on and completely off preferences?" Fingon pulled back slightly, shifting up and then dropping back down hard. He half yelped as Maedhros slid home and worried his bottom lip. Feels good, Russ. So good to have you inside of me again.

"I can do whatever you--" Maedhros had begun to explain, when Fingon took him suddenly hard, and he groaned audibly at the glorious sensation. "Oh, Fin," he gasped, holding him like something breakable for half a moment before he gave his lust free rein and bit into his shoulder. "Want--you--" He slid forward until he could pull Fingon's legs out from under him, lowering him further and harder onto his lap. "How's that?" He whispered, alternating kissing and sucking on his neck, though he could tell how it was affecting him from the faces he was making and the way he bowed his back.

"Nnngh! Perfect! Exquisite, arimelda." Fingon shivered under his husband's onslaught, clenching around him. Thankyouthankyouthankyougooood! "A-and you? How is it for you?" He was breathless and grinning as he looked at Maedhros.

"Exquisite?" Maedhros repeated, grinning. "If you can even _say_ 'exquisite' then I'm not doing my job," he growled, rolling his hips. He drew Fingon's hair across his neck and back until it wrapped around his throat and tugged lightly, testing. Fingon had seemed to like this before (and he knew he did), so he watched him closely.

Fingon's eyes flashed and he bucked against Maedhros for a moment before relaxing within his new bond. "Russ," he choked. He had a faint thought that he shouldn't enjoy this as much as he did, but he set it aside and basked in his husband's attentions. More, ohpleaseValarfuck more.

Seeing (and feeling) desire flare up in Fingon, Maedhros wound his hair once more around his beautiful white throat and held on, keeping it taut. "Mine," he growled, biting Fingon's lower lip as he rocked more roughly into him, tugging on Fingon's harndess between them. "Want to see you come undone with me still inside you--and I'll make you hard again. I'll wait for you, just keep gently fucking you until you can spend again. I love to feel you dance on me."

Whimpering, Fingon braced his hands against Maedhros' shoulders and moved. He felt lightheaded and raw and overheated, and he lived every minute if it. His heart almost stopped at Maedhros' plans and he nodded as best he could. Want that. Want to please you, to dance for you. Want you to make me come. His hands tightened on Maedhros as he tried to decide between focusing on moving back onto His husband's arousal or forward into his hand.

"Mm--want to tie your hands, keep you speared on me and unable to move off, unable to lift yourself. Would you like that, love?" Maedhros purred, nipping at his chin and stroking him roughly. "Take your hands off me. Clasp them behind you. How's that?" he asked, loosening the hold on his hair so he could answer.

"Good," Fingon moaned. "Very good." He trembled, but remained balanced on Maedhros the way his husband had wanted. Neck? My neck, again? Please.

There was just enough hair left to wrap it around Maedhros' fist once, allowing him to hold the back of Fingon's neck and keep up the pressure they both craved. "Good. My good Finno, my perfect one. So delicious." Maedhros kissed him, not moving him on his lap but stroking him firmly, twisting his wrist to bring him to completion. "Come for me? Are you close?" He tugged harder on his hair, pulling Fingon's head back.

A-almost. So close. Please. More. RussRussRuss! Tighter. Please. Russ! Fingon's vision was spotting from arousal or from lack of air and he moaned softly through his squeezed airway. A-almost. If Russ did anything now, moved faster or pulled tighter, he would be over the edge. He tightened around his husband, begging.

Maedhros gave it to him, thrusting up as he tightened a hand in his hair, twisted the hand around his cock, and stealing his breath in a savage kiss all at once. Come for me, he demanded, growling in his chest.

Fingon came, mouth opening soundlessly. He jerked as he spent which pulled the hair around his neck tighter, and he couldn't breath, couldn't see, all there was in his world was his husband. Russss! Vennonya!!! Russandol, oh, Russ! He was crying softly, tears slipping down his cheeks and it was amazing and glorious and perfect.

Maedhros pumped him to his finish, and as Fingon went limp he immediately unwound the hair from around his neck and pulled his body against him, holding him up and resting Fingon's head on his shoulder, whispering soothing nonsense to him and rubbing his back. "Shh, good, that's my Finno, that's my love, my venno, my arimelda. Good. Love you. So good for me." He unwrapped where Fingon's fingers held to one wrist and let his arms drop limp to his sides. "Can you tell me what you're feeling right now?"

"Comfy," Fingon said after a minute, breathing deeply. "Relaxed. Wet." They both laughed at the last word. "Like I could melt into a warm puddle." He carefully leaned forward to kiss Maedhros and groaned. "I feel you inside me- feels warm and good and safe." He blinked slowly. "I could stay like this forever. Well, until I slumped over on top of you."

"Slump all you like. I can be patient," Maedhros said, kissing Fingon's neck lightly. "Want to be patient." Indeed, though he was hard, he felt he could wait as long as Fingon was here atop him. "Love you. So beautiful. So warm and snug."

Relaxing further, Fingon lay himself in the water and rested on his husband's chest. His arms wound loosely about Maedhros' neck and he sighed appreciatively. "Thank you," he whispered. "This feels amazing."

"You feel amazing," Maedhros said, continuing to rub Fingon's back gently, so that it was a surprise when a sharp nail raked down his spine, causing Fingon to jolt and tighten around him. "Oh, that's nice. Do that again for me?" he asked, this time pinching his invitingly soft backside.

Clenching around his husband, Fingon whined. He pushed himself up again so that he straddled Maedhros, lifted, and then let himself fall back down. He mewled as Maedhros filled him, and looked down at his husband with large eyes. "Feels, feels--" Intense. Powerful. Like I'm yours. Like you're mine.

"You are mine," Maedhros corrected, smiling, and kissing Fingon, nipping at his lower lip. "And I am yours." He reached between them to test Fingon's hardness, and stroked him experimentally. "You are very good at this. He reached behind him to drain some of the water. "If you can, I would like to see you ride me--not for my pleasure, but for yours. I want you to finish before me."

“A challenge,” Fingon said with a small smile. “Well, you are always inspiring and ever tempting. Perhaps, perhaps for you I can.” He raised himself again, slipping back down. “It’s nice is the water,” he murmured. “Easier to move over you when I’m already spent and exhausted.” He grinned up at his husband. “Love you,” he whispered and attempted a faster movement.

"Love you--" he began, his breath hitching immediately at Fingon's movement. "Ah, yes, just like that. We can--if you want--more water. Just--just didn't want to make a mess," he said, voice gravelly at Fingon's perfect movements. "Uh. Okay, okay, you have to slow down, or I won't last," he gasped.

Fingon’s brow furrowed. “Sorry. Trying to, ah, get myself closer again.” He splashed lightly as he slid against Maedhros. “More water…. Would be nice. Maybe some extra hot water again. Just let me-“ He leaned back, folding away from Maedhros as he stretched to reach the drain without moving from his perch. The shift pressed Maedhros against him at a new angle and Fingon flung out a hand to brace himself, moaning softly.

"Ooh, there, hold that," Maedhros said, arms going around Fingon to trap him there as he rocked into him, delighting at the soft squeaks he drew out of his husband. "Yes, more hot water, work that spot," he said, reaching back to fill the tub with warmer water.

“Mmmm. Nugh!” Fingon’s eyes closed as he relaxed, suspended by the water and by Maedhros’ hands, squeaking softly. FeelsgoodgreatnowohRussRussRussRuss. Can you feel this? Can you--? “Aaaagh! Oh, there. There.”

Maedhros cried out now, too, feeling Fingon's ecstasy through their bond. "Ah, Finno," he moaned, and he could almost work him out like a map, adjusting his hips until he was centered on that one spot, and there he spun and worked him until Maedhros could almost see the stars Fingon was seeing. "Ah, so good. So good," he hummed. "Can I make you come from this? I can't touch you. Have to hold you. Can you come without me touching you? Just--" he slammed his hips up, "like--" and again, "this?"

“Mm-aah!” If it was the first time, yes, definitely, yes. Now… I think… I think… “Think I can,” Fingon whispered roughly. “Will you talk to me? Since you can’t touch me? Please. Want to hear your voice.” His hips rocked gently in Maedhros’ hold, trying to rub Maedhros against his inner walls.

"You mean you want to hear about my dirty desires?" Maedhros huffed, nibbling on Fingon's ear as his arms strained to keep him right where he wanted him. "You liking things around your neck gave me an idea. Would you like to hear it?" he asked, but continued immediately: "I could make you a necklace that was very big and very tight--almost like a--a collar, like for a hound. It could be just a little too tight, and you could wear it for me when you come to bed. There might even be a loop so I could tie a rope to it and tug on it, just as a reminder. What do you think of that?" he said, breath hot on Fingon's neck.

“I… um… sometimes, yes,” Fingon whispered. “Heavy and claiming me as yours. I could… I could wear that for you, for us, once in a while.” He huffed lightly, “Just don’t forget that you’re mine as I’m yours. Would you wear heavy collar and a rope for me?” He groaned. “Tell me what else you want. Tell me what else you imagined us doing on our honeymoon.”

"I would," Maedhros answered, blushing. "I would wear such a thing and follow at your heel _like_ a hound if you wanted me to," he said, kissing Fingon's neck and deciding to try a different tack. "I imagined us lying in bed all day. Taking at least a full day to never leave our bed together--except to get food, perhaps,  and return. We could make a game of it, like we did when we were children, and pretend the floor was ocean and that if we touched it we would fall in and drown. And we would have nothing to do but enjoy each other. And I would memorize your smile, and braid your hair, and draw the curve of your back." He thrust up sharply again.

“YES!” Ah, yes, yesyesyes! Fingon’s back arched almost impossibly until his head was close to the surface of the water. “Yes. Yes, please. Please, more. A little more. Close again.” How am I close again? Do you see what you do to me? Perfect Russ. Precious Russ. How I love thee. How I yearn for thee. Hröa and fëa and all of me.

"Good, good, me too. Together this time, are you ready for that?" Maedhros asked, kissing him softly on the cheek. "And we'll switch, like you said, back and forth, see how long we can go without stopping, until we're both exhausted and can't move. Or make a bet out of it, see who tires first," Medhros grunted, hips thrusting roughly as he held Fingon to that one spot, his own fëa and hröa filling almost to bursting. "Close--close. With me?"

“Always. Forever. Together.” Fingon focused on their bond, trying to feel Maedhros, to hold onto both perspectives as they finished. “Now!” Valar now need you need this! Maedhros shifted in him again, and then he was arching back and spilling into the water, grinding and clenching against his husband. Perfect, perfect, yes, please, there.

Maedhros finished now, too, with a wild cry, now rutting into Fingon with abandon, clutching him to him as he rode out his orgasm, their joy going back and forth between their bond. "Love you, love you, love you," he huffed, until he lay spent and exhausted in the bath, pulling Fingon against his chest as he slid out of him. "Good, you feel so good, so wonderful."

“I feel amazing,” Fingon whispered. He tucked himself close to Maedhros, squirming slightly as he was left empty. “Thank you,” he said quietly, seriously. “You always take such good care of me. _You_ are exquisite, darling. Tyë melin. Thank you for gifting me with yourself and your care and your love and your pleasure.” He tugged Maedhros’ hair lightly before relaxing entirely, resting limply against Maedhros.

"Thank you," Maedhros replied, "thank you for letting me take care of you, and thank you for taking care of me. I love you." He ran his hands up and down Fingon's spine and over his hair.

“I like it when you play with my hair,” Fingon murmured, pleasantly half-asleep in the water. “And when you plait gold into it.” He arched back into Maedhros’ hands a small amount before flopping forward again. What next? He wondered idly, but he could not bring himself to move or to ask the question, as content as he was.

"We'll stay here until we prune," Maedhros said, smiling and kissing his hair, "or until we feel like moving again. We could eat some cookies--drag a bed up to the roof? Or just a few blankets, and come back down later?"

“Could we take blankets?” The corners of his mouth curled up. “That way we can put a fire in the fireplace and snuggle under the covers.” He shifted, water sloshing. “Cookies sound excellent. And you know I love your cooking. You’ve outdone yourself tonight, arimeldanya.”

Maedhros beamed like nothing but Fingon's praise could do to him, and he kissed him lovingly. "All for you," he reminded him. "Yes, a fire would be good, as it might get cool tonight. Would you like hot chocolate as well? Or cold milk with your cookies?"

“Hot cocoa!” Fingon tilted his head and grinned up at his husband. “I might still dip my cookies in it. Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

Maedhros laughed out loud. "Everyone already knows. Macalaurë thinks it's disgusting: too much chocolate and sweet," he chuckled. "But then he doesn't get to kiss you afterward, so I see why he doesn't understand." He shifted in the tub, testing his legs. "All right. Think we can get out?"

“If I can move.” Fingon shifted, then wiggled, eventually squirming into a half-seated position, hands bracing himself on the tub and head a few inches above Maedhros. “Vennonya,” he smiled, ducking to kiss Maedhros. Slowly, he moved himself up onto the edge of the bath. He sat for a moment, still incredibly relaxed and debating whether or not he could stand.

"Well, you had either stop presenting me with such a lovely view, or consent to spend another half hour in the bath," Maedhros said, leaning forward to lick at Fingon's sex, which was more or less at eye level. Then he grinned and got to his feet, holding Fingon carefully. "Wait for me here, darling?" he asked, stepping gingerly out of the tub and getting towels for them both, drying Fingon off first as well as his hair and then bundling him up in a fluffy robe. "Sit. Let me dry off, and I'll do your hair. Unless you'd rather have cookies first?"

“Hair is good. Would you thread the gold wires into it?” Fingon asked, holding the robe close around him. “And then we can make hot cocoa and go look at the stars.” He grinned. “I wonder what kinds of trouble our girls are getting up to out there.”

"I shudder to think, after what I heard," Maedhros laughed as he brushed Fingon's hair out. "You sleep in the gold wires?" Maedhros said. "I could use ribbon or something softer?"

And after what they heard, Fingon thought with a snort. “Um… well… how soon are you planning on sleeping? If you are willing, I would enjoy the gold for now.” He had a tentative idea for after they returned from stargazing, but he did not dwell on it or let the thought fully form.

Maedhros blushed. "Well, true. All right," he said, weaving the pieces in to the jet-black, still-wet hair. He chuckled. "I like getting to it when it's wet, before it gets too unruly. Your hair, like you, is wonderful in every way, and, if I may boast, I am best at dealing with it."

“It’s not an empty boast, it’s quite true. And I am amazed by what you can do with my hair.” Fingon grinned, sitting straight as he let Maedhros work on his hair. “Shall I do yours next? And is there anything in particular you would like done to it?”

"Please. And--no, not really. You could just touch it for fifteen minutes and I would be happy," Maedhros said. "Or you could get creative." After a moment, "There. All done. And very lovely." He kissed the top of Fingon's head and continued drying his own hair off. "I think it's quite tangled. You could just brush it out and I would be grateful," he said, handing him a comb.

“My turn, then,” Fingon said with a smile. “Thank you,” he added as he looked in the mirror. “You’re an incredible artist, love.” He began to work through Maedhros’ hair, untangling it slowly and carefully. “We were just relaxing /in the tub/ where it was pressed flat against the side. How has it gotten so tangled so quickly?” He shook his head, continuing to work through Maedhros’ hair and then adding a braided crown to the top of his head while leaving much of his hair to fall loose over his shoulders.

"Well, I didn't bother with it much while we were camping. And--curls. I want to strangle my brothers when the weather gets to be humid--even the Ambarussa are not, ah, blessed, with hair this big." He tapped the top of his head. "Are you making me look like a nis?" he teased, laughing before he had time to remember about the apron and add cross-dressing to his list of kinks.

“There are benefits, though,” Fingon said, in response to his first comment. “You always take care of it, so it looks absolutely stunning.” He tugged on said hair lightly. “And no, not exactly. I’m making you into a handsome prince with absolutely gorgeous hair. Though if you’d like me to try putting some of the plaits Irissë prefers in, I can try to do that.” He pressed against Maedhros. “And you shouldn’t think of that apron when I’m trying to concentrate. I’m going to ruin this and have to start over!” Not that either of them would consider that a horrible event.

Maedhros chuckled. "All right, sorry, sorry," he said, sitting quietly until Fingon was done. "It is lovely," he agreed, catching sight of himself in a mirror. "Thank you." He kissed Fingon, pulled on a robe, and ushered them into the kitchen. "I'll make hot cocoa while you sit and enjoy some cookies," he said. "Oh, or get some blankets."

 

“I’ll grab blankets and meet you!” Fingon smiled and wandered into their bedroom, beginning to set up the fireplace. He grabbed pillows and two heavy blankets before wandering to the kitchen. Maedhros was busy at the stove, and Fingon grabbed a cookie from the counter, moaning in delight at the rich taste. “I _love_ your baking, Russ!”

Maedhros smiled. "Thank you: I'm glad. Do you think you can get the plate of cookies up on the roof? And I'll join you with the hot chocolate in a minute?"

“Of course.” Fingon draped the blankets around himself, tying the pillows into their hold and pressed securely against his chest. He then picked up the platter of cookies, stealing another as he made his way outside. “I’ll get everything set up. See you in a minute!”

"Great!" Maedhros called, watching him toddle off so adorably encumbered, and grinning, deciding he was definitely the luckiest Elda in all of Aman. He finished warming the milk and mixing in the chocolate until it was smooth and foamy, and filled two large mugs. "All right, here's one," he said, handing Fingon one mug as he climbed the ladder one-handed, before returning for the second. "There we are! Oh--Fin! You've set everything up so beautifully!" he said.

Fingon blushed. “Well, it’s not quite finished- it’s cooling off up here. Join me? I think two Eldar under the blankets will be much warmer than just one!” Fingon sipped at his hot cocoa, throwing back the corner of the top blanket and patting the spot beside him with a grin.

Maedhros joined him gladly, slipping his robe open so flesh pressed against flesh, and he wrapped his arm around Fingon as he sipped his own drink. "Mm, just what I needed," he said. "My Findekáno, my cocoa, and the stars." He leaned down to kiss the top of his head. "I am very happy," he confessed. "Thank you for choosing me as your husband."

Fingon leaned his head on Maedhros’ shoulder, touched by the statement. “How could I dream of choosing anyone else? Of wanting anyone else? You’re my world, Nelyafinwe Maitimo Russandol.” He pressed himself against Maedhros’ side, pulling the blanket tighter about them. “Thank you for having me as your husband.”

Maedhros grinned and shrugged. "I must confess the same: there was no choice but you. I just wanted to express my gratitude in this moment. We have much to be thankful for: our family, our new home, our perfect happiness. A story such as ours might have ended in tragedy, but it did not." He tilted Fingon's head back just enough to kiss him gently, a brush of lips. "But even under the darkest of circumstances you must know that I would never stop loving you."

"As I will never stop loving you," Fingon returned. "I shall love you forever- beyond the Trees and Arda itself, beyond time. I shall never stop loving you, never stop believing in you." He smiled. "We do have much to be thankful for. I can never be grateful enough to be sitting here with you. You've brightened my world, Russ. And I love you for it." He looked out at the stars for a moment, and then turned back to Maedhros, feeling lighthearted and fun. "Cookie?" he offered, holding one up.

Sharing the feeling, Maedhros grinned, biting at the soft cookie offered him, and taking the rest in his hand. "Thank you," he beamed, turning out to look at the stars now too.

With an arm slipped around Maedhros' waist, Fingon settled and was content to enjoy the night sky while he snacked and drank. With his husband do close he barely noticed the chill except for along his nose (which he promptly stuck in the steam rising from his drink) and the edges of his ears.

Knowing Fingon's aversion to the cold, Maedhros scooted them back closer to the warm chimney, and pulled his own blanket up over Fingon's head, wrapping it around him and holding him close. Indeed, he took this opportunity to steal a position behind him, so he could wrap both legs and arms around him, and so Fingon could lean against him (just feeling him breathing, feeling his heartbeat against his chest made Maedhros stupidly happy). "We should find a constellation, just for us."

"When I was little almost every cloud or group of stars looked like a puppy or a horse or a mountain for climbing. What picture do you think we'll find painted across the sky now?" He pressed against Maedhros, touching his ears to his husband's chest to warm them one at a time. "Hmm... What should we look for, or did you have something in mind?"

Maedhros shrugged. A mountain, perhaps? Or two lovers? "I think we'll know it when we see it," he said, gazing up at the sky and beginning to pick out the constellations he knew, recombining them in different ways to create new shapes. In the meantime he was glad simply to hold Fingon in his arms and gaze upward, imagining those who woke first under the stars, and feeling himself reborn here.

"There," Fingon whispered. "Two cats playing with a ball of string. I'm not sure it's us, but it's cute." He craned his neck to look back at Maedhros, pointing at the cluster of stars. "Do you see it?"

Maedhros slid his cheek next to Fingon's so he could see exactly where he was pointing. "Oh! Ha, that is cute. Probably not us, but I do see it. Perhaps if we could call them dragons, or something else more exciting," he grinned. "There's a flower--or a star--but I don't think that works, either."

"Perhaps for your father, but we need something else... Something- can you find a pair of dancing Eldar, or something that looks like one of the ridges along the Maitimoronti?" Fingon continued looking around, warm and happy as he grabbed another cookie.

"Oh um--" Maedhros said, scanning the sky. "There? Two--well, lines, the three stars together and three stars further apart? And there's a star in the middle joining them." He cocked his head. "And you might even draw our mountains there if you connected the dots that way instead," he mused. "But I think it looks better as us dancing, or just holding hands."

"I like that." Fingon slipped his hand into Maedhros' own. "Let's have that constellation. Two Eldar standing together, holding hands and possibly about to start dancing." He grinned, breaking the last cookie in half and handing a portion to his husband. "Your cooking is addictive. I don't know how your siblings get anything done- if I'd grown up with you in the same house I would have been constantly trailing after you begging for food." He ignored the fact that even living under different roofs, Fingon had spent a large portion of his childhood following Maedhros around or leading him on an adventure as his cousin willingly followed after him.

Maedhros laughed out loud, deeply and joyfully. "I think you're the one who appreciates my cooking the most--except for my atar and amil, who appreciate when they do not have to cook--I don't know how they'll fare with me gone. I love cooking for you the most," he said, kissing him. He giggled and nibbled his neck. "Want to make you fat. Just feed you and feed you and keep you fat and happy."

Fingon blushed and snorted, ducking his head. "Russ!" He elbowed his husband gently. "After years of trying to get stronger and faster and better so that I can keep up with you, you want to make me fat?!" He snuggled against his husband, tugging the blanket higher. "Though I wouldn't complain about eating your cooking every day. It would be dangerous for my health if you _were_ trying to fatten me, as I doubt I could resist, but I think it might be worth it." He turned slightly, looking at Maedhros and tucking a hair back. "But what can I do for you to keep you as happy? I would was the dishes if you cooked, of course, but what is there that I can do to spoil you, arimeldanya?"

"You mean aside from getting fat?" Maedhros teased. "You spoil me when you let me spoil you. You spoil me with your smile, your love and your devotion. You spoil me by eating my food and asking for seconds and, yes, by doing the dishes. You spoil me by touching me and being with me, and following me everywhere." He pressed their noses together. "I do especially love your massages, though," he confessed. "You can spoil me _that_ way any time."

Fingon kissed his shoulder. "Then perhaps I might spoil you when we go to bed? When we head in if you check on the horses, I'll clean up our dishes and start the fire in our bedroom." He gave his husband a smile. "I'm loath to leave our stars, though. I like the idea of a constellation for us- every time I see it I'll think of us and feel warm, safe and loved."

"We don't have to go in, just yet," Maedhros said. "I'm still memorizing our stars, but I keep getting distracted." He shifted them slightly so he was looking at Fingon from a different angle, and tilted his chin up. "There," he whispered. "Now I can see them in your eyes."

Fingon leaned forward, pressing their lips together. "I love you," Fingon whispered. "Tyë melin tenn' ambar-metta." He looped his arms about his husband's neck, and could see worlds in Maedhros' eyes.

They remained like that, just staring into each other's eyes, until their chocolate grew cold and the wind picked up, making the roof uncomfortable. "All right," he said, kissing Fingon another time. "Let's go inside. I'll look to the horses and meet you in the bedroom." He paused. "I like saying that," he said with a smile, dumping the last of the chocolate drinks off the roof and swinging down the ladder, whistling for the horses.

Fingon descended carefully, though he almost ran once he was inside. He rushed through the dishes, grabbed stones to light the fire, and one the first flames appeared he began rummaging in his bag. Looking in the mirror for guidance, he carefully slipped on a garment that was no more than delicate golden chains with the smallest of gems sparkling across it. It was a decoration to impress a Noldor lord. And it matched the gold in his hair perfectly. After adding an extra bit of kindling to the fire he perched on the bed, arranging himself for his husband.

Cursing at the cold as he came in, Maedhros stomped at the door to warm himself. "They'd gone for a run, I had to find--Finno? Fin?" At a call from the bedroom, however, Maedhros moved in. "The kitchen looks great, Fin, thank--you--"

He stopped at the door to the bedroom because at any moment his legs might give out. "Oh, Fin," he said, drinking in the sight like the elves who had never seen the Light, and he was mesmerized, for Fingon was wearing--nothing really--he was naked, except for interlocking golden chains and--and gems--delicate, shining, bright, like he was clad in stars. The gold in his hair now made perfect sense, and, oh, the way the chains draped low across his hips and met in the middle, and the way it went around his neck and spilled down his back like a _garment_ made of _nothing but air_. "Finno," he breathed, and repeated it, until he could hardly tell if he was saying "Finno" or "Oh, Fin."

He had stepped forward feeling weightless, and found himself suddenly standing by the bed sporting an instant hard-on. "Findekáno, you--you look--" there were simply no words, "Did you make this--?" His arms dropped helpless to his sides. "I--you. May I?" May I fall on my knees and worship you?

I'm yours. Fingon tilted his head looking up at him. Everything that I am is yours, Russandol. His eyes were bright and his voice was heavily accented even across the bond. "If you want to. Though I was planning on spoiling you a little-- giving you a nice long massage either in bed or next to the fire." He smiled at Maedhros tenderly before it turned to a wry grin. "And I had a little help with some of the technical aspects of crafting this, but yes, it is my design and I made it for you." Fingon was almost lost to the emotions he felt from his husband. He wanted to please him-- he desperately wanted to please him, to surprise and delight him-- and he was succeeding. Maedhros at a loss for words was astoundingly beautiful, and his desire to love, to cherish, to worship rushed across their bond in a torrent and left Fingon just as aroused and just as needing, both physically and emotionally, as his husband was. "Tyë melin, vennonya. Will you join me, or shall I join you?" Fingon was already moving, however, gliding across the floor carefully to minimize the movement and sound of the chains to a small musical series of chimes. When he reached Maedhros, he sank to his knees, looking up at him and sharing how inordinately pleased he was to be there at the cabin, in _their_ bedroom, with Russ. He stood after a minute, offering Maedhros, who hadn't moved, an arm covered in gold and finely cut gems.

Maedhros stumbled back as in reverent fear, mesmerized, and, "N-no, wait," he said, also falling to his knees. It was like their first time in this cabin, where Maedhros could not conceive of Fingon debasing himself in any slight manner. Certainly not dressed like this. "You're beautiful. It's beautiful." As wonderful as a massage sounded, he couldn't willingly turn away from him.

"My beauty is but my attempt to reflect your own." Fingon swallowed hard. "I love thee," he whispered, taking a careful step forward and reaching out a hand. "Come with me to the fireplace or to bed? Please?" My prince, my lord, my Maitimo Russandol.”

Maedhros nodded wordlessly, taking Fingon's hand and standing. Bed? he asked, unable or unwilling to speak. He was shaking faintly, and he could not look away from Fingon, weak and pliant in his hold.

"I would like that," Fingon answered softly. He took both of Maedhros' hands in his own and, exclaiming at the cold skin, walked backwards until they reached the wide bed that dominated the room. When they seated themselves, kneeling close to the foot of the bed where the fire's warmth surrounded them, they sat for a time, just looking at each other, hands still joined and squeezing each other in turns.

"It's--you're beautiful," Maedhros finally managed, breaking the silence. "I--may I touch--?" at Fingon's nod he reached out shaking hands to run his fingers over the gold linking. "M-may I kiss you?"

"Please," _please_ , Fingon whispered, almost weeping. He was aroused-- they both were-- but they were far more focused on each other. Fingon was almost lost in his husband's unrestrained admiration of him, and he returned the feeling wholeheartedly. "Kiss me, vennonya."

Maedhros surged forward, unable to close his eyes until the last moment, for the gold and jewels mesmerized him. It was almost as beautiful as the stars shining on him at their wedding, but it was also erotic, seeing Fingon naked except for _jewelry_.(1) The kiss was starving, as if they had been apart for years. "Oh, Finno," he said, suddenly pressing him back, pressing him down to the bed, the kiss deepening. "Oh, Fin," he sighed, getting Fingon flat on his back and settling over him, the golden chains rippling over his own skin pleasantly. "So beautiful, my Findekáno, vennonya," he breathed.

"My Russandol," Fingon whispered, gazing up at him. Firelight flickered across his husband's skin, painting him in warm colors and flickering light. "Tyë melin," he moaned, surging up to lock their lips together again. "Tyë melin vennonya, vennonya vanya." What would you have of me now? That massage, or will you first take me gently, carefully, and find your pleasure in me?"

"I--" he gasped, running his fingers through Fingon's hair, "I must have you. Please. You look so delicious. I'll be gentle," he begged softly. "You don't have to take this off, do you?"

Fingon shook his head. "I'd like to leave it on." He glanced around the room dazedly. "There's, ah, oil-- up at the top of the bed on the table. Just... If you grab it, can we stay right here?" It's warm here, and the firelight makes your hair and skin glow.

"Yes," Maedhros breathed, kissing Fingon one last time before crawling across the bed to retrieve the oil. He smiled as he returned, still shaking with barely contained excitement. "Would you, um, lie back?" He took up a pillow to slide under Fingon's hips, but, upon touching him, Maedhros suddenly started: "Oh Fin, are you cold? You must be freezing in that thing!" He covered Fingon in a blanket and his own body, cursing himself for being selfish.

Fingon laughed, feeling very cared for and pampered. While he liked coming together with his husband fiercely and passionately, there was also something to be said for being treated like something delicate. "I'm well, arimelda. As long as we stay close to the fire-- it's warm and… I trust that you'll have me even warmer soon." He grinned up at Maedhros, who was holding himself above him. "Just don't completely ruin your view-- a great deal of time and effort went into making this." He trailed one hand along a gold chain until it reached his breast, and he shifted to circle a nipple. "And it was designed specifically to appeal to you." Whether he meant the jewelry alone or himself as well was unclear.

Biting his lip, Maedhros slowly uncovered Fingon. "You succeeded. It's perfect. It's--dizzying." He kissed Fingon passionately, opening the oil one handed and slicking his hand before sliding it over Fingon's sex.

“Russ?” Fingon yelped, bucking into the unexpected touch. “Oh, _Valar_ , Russandol.” He slid his hand up Maedhros’ arm until he grasped the back of his neck, squeezing gently. Arimelda, Arimeldanya, you undo me. You complete me, love.

"Shh, sh, love," Maedhros whispered, kissing across his face. "Beautiful. Going to make love to you so sweetly. Going to kiss you and tease you and make you very happy." His hand wandered lower, slicking between Fingon's legs.

Fingon’s legs fell apart, opening wider for his husband. “Love this,” he whispered. “Love you making love to me and taking care of me and loving me. Love making you look exactly how you look right now.” He tilted his head to catch Maedhros’ lips for an extra moment, running a hand through his husband’s hair. He could have stared at Maedhros forever, but his cousin’s hands were slowly undoing him, and he felt like he was starting to melt into the bed, a warm, tingling pile of pleasured nerves and happiness.

"Beautiful, you're beautiful. Beautiful and mine. Radiant as the jewels in the sky." He massaged around Fingon's entrance but did not press inside. "Love you, you feel so good. Look so pretty for me.  Thank you." He kissed Fingon across his chest, licking at pert nipples.

“All for you. Only yours-- only ever yours, my Russ.” Fingon slid a hand behind his head, holding Maedhros close to him. “My jewel, my treasure, my darling. You set me alight. I burn for you, Russ.” He was starting to sweat lightly, and no longer felt the slightest chill. The fire continued to crackle and Maedhros, above him, could have been one of the Valar. Fingon trembled beneath him and would have worshipped at his feet, except Maedhros seemed intent on worshiping Fingon’s hröa, and Fingon could not deny his husband any desire he had.

Finally, after touching Fingon thoroughly, Maedhros coated his fingers in more oil and pressed inside. Fingon gave easily. "So open for me, so easy. Ai, Findekáno, you are a gift, a dream come true, you are perfect. Tyë melin." Two fingers now, reaching deep, not stretching.

Fingon nodded, panting. “You’re part of me. Of course my hröa welcomes you.” He arched lightly, trying to spear himself more quickly on Maedhros’ probing fingers. “Feels good. I like having any part of you in me.” He grinned up at Maedhros, shifting his hands to run along his husband’s sides. “And I like the view you present on top of me.” Want this when you’re in me. But for part of the time, perhaps I can ride you, gold glinting in the firelight as I move over you? Maedhros received a flash of an image where Fingon straddled him, thighs straining as he moved atop him and hands falling forward next to his shoulders to brace Fingon. And then Maedhros sitting up and turning Fingon almost without breaking their movement. Fingon shivered.

Yes, yes that, all of that. "I'll have you first, like this," Maedhros said, adding a third finger. "Love you."

“Love you more!” Fingon teased. He gasped as Maedhros crooked his fingers. Fingon squeezed his husband’s hips, and then raked his nails up Maedhros’ back with controlled gentleness, barely leaving white lines in their wake. “Russ!” he choked, hands tangling in Maedhros locks.

"Yes, just like that, want you on the edge of feral. Gently, steady," he had to remind him, for he didn't trust himself not to go wild at the first provocation, and this should be slow and gentle. "You'll not hardly feel me stretch you," he promised, except when I touch you deep. Then you'll know it can only be me." He kissed Fingon again, loving at his face and throat, stretching him patiently with his eager fingers.

“Love you love you love you yes. Please.” Fingon squirmed slightly under his husband, enjoying Maedhros’ gently confining weight and unable to keep his hips completely still as Maedhros moved teasingly within him. “Of course it can only be you. No one else will ever touch me there. Well, unless I’m stretching myself. But yours are the only fingers not my own that will reach there, and your arousal is the only one that shall ever be sated there.” He glanced up at Maedhros demurely wondering if his words affected his cousin as much as they did him.

"Yes, mine, of course mine," Maedhros said, eyes glazing. "Love you, need you." He removed his fingers to slick himself thoroughly. "Mine. As I am yours. Are you ready for me?" he asked, pressing just the tip inside.

"Yessss." Fingon sighed, locking eyes with Maedhros as he revealed in the sensation. "Very ready. You feel so good, beloved."

"There's my boy, there's my very good boy," Maedhros said, kissing him softly across his face and pressing deeper, slowly, ever so slowly and gently, like he might take a thousand years to do this and enjoy every minute. The golden chains tickled where they touched, and Fingon was just so beautiful. Love you. I love you.

Love you my one, my only. Feels… I can feel every tiny movement as you go deeper. It’s wonderful, Russandol. Fingon’s toes curled and he tugged Maedhros’ head down to kiss him again. “Russandol, Russ, Russ. Are feeling warmer now, darling?”

"Are you?" Maedhros countered. "I'm fine, I was worried about you. You in that skimpy little thing," he grinned. "Never fancied myself a lech until you put this on. It's perfect. Are you sure it's not woven with any spells? Because I don't think I could deny you anything while you wore it."

Fingon grinned up at him, tucking that piece of knowledge away. “That’s good to know! And no, no spells. But every piece, every gem, was crafted with love for you. Does that count, perhaps?” He shifted, moving Maedhros deeper, and moaned softly at the sensation. “Of course, I can’t complain about you wearing nothing-- your hroa itself is greatly beautiful. And it might have been be made for me, it affects me so greatly.”

"Yes," Maedhros grunted, smiling. He was almost embarrassed he had no equal gift, but, "I like that. I was crafted for you, to please you, for you to do with as you please. And I give myself to you, to serve you in whatever manner you desire." He kissed Fingon lovingly. "I am yours. As you are mine." He moved slowly out now to slide back in.

Fingon’s mouth dropped open and he shifted, back arching to press their chests together. “Mine,” he repeated softly, “and yours.” Fingon’s hands ran across Maedhros’ back unable to stop moving, touching, pressing and enjoying. “More?” he requested quietly.

"Not yet." Maedhros grinned wolfishly. "Want to see you go mad with it first. Want you to beg me to make love to you more than sweetly."

“I was supposed to be spoiling you,” Fingon protested half-heartedly. “You undo me, darling.” It really wasn’t fair, what the grin Maedhros was sporting was doing to him. He shifted and moaned and hoped his presence, his feelings did as much for Maedhros as his husband’s clearly did for him.

Maedhros groaned, Fingon's desires setting him on fire, though he proceeded slowly. "Love you, love you. You are spoiling me. I love you."

Laughing, Fingon tugged him down and kissed him. “I’m glad. This is perfect. We’re here and together and… it’s been an incredible day. And incredible week.” He quieted for a minute and then, “Are you ready for more, yet?”

“Tonight’s for you,” Fingon whispered. “I can feel your pleasure. I don’t want to rush you, but if you want to hear me, then please? This is nice. This is wonderful, and we could keep doing this-- but my hröa yearns for more.”

"How much more?" Maedhros continued to tease, nibbling on his ears. "Tell me what you want. Remember I can deny you nothing."

“Hmm… I think, perhaps-” Fingon thrust up and twisted, spinning them so that he sat atop Maedhros looking down at him, “I think I’d like to ride you until you cannot stand it and then, then you can flip me back over and take what you _need_ until we are satisfied.” He pushed himself up and sank down with a groan. “Would that please thee?”

Maedhros' breath caught. "I, ah--oh!" he said, eyes blown wide with lust. "Yes. Yes, I--yes." He hissed as Fingon worked him, shimmering and writhing above him like some sort of-- "Oh, Valarfuck, Fin!" he groaned.

Fingon laughed happily, enjoying turning the tables on his husband. “Don’t wanna fuck the Valar,” Fingon said, giggling. “Wanna make love to _you_.” He shifted again, and let his head fall back, listening to Maedhros’ panting breaths, the crackling of the fire, and the musical chiming of his jewelry as gems and strings of gold brushed against each other.

Maedhros gulped for air like he couldn't get enough. Fingon was stealing all the air, or banishing it, with his perfection, with his gyrating and swaying and rocking and the little golden shimmery bits. He wanted this to last forever, on the one hand, but it was also just entirely too much to bear, and though he was mesmerized, unable to look away, eventually his need became too much and with a growl Maedhros overturned them again, his pace increasing suddenly. "You," he said, hips snapping into Fingon at a rate that surprised both of them, "are perfect. I can't--" he gulped, "I can't--you--you're--you're not real. When am I going to wake up from this and find you were all a dream?"

“Never!” Fingon could barely find words, rocked by Maedhros’ enthusiasm and movements, but they came when his husband spoke. “Never, I am yours, Russandol. Yours, my prince. And I will _never_ leave you. If you leave me or if I’m taken away, I will come and find you. I’ll wait for you to catch up and find me.” He thrust up, meeting Maedhros’ movement with a choked noise. “We’re meant to be together and no power in Arda can sunder us completely. Not now when our fëar and hröar are mingled. Not ever.”

Maedhros folded Fingon in his arms, suddenly near tears though he was the happiest he could ever imagine being. "Love you, love you, thank you," he murmured, kissing Fingon possessively, gasping when Fingon wriggled in just the right way that had him seeing stars. He shifted his hips around, experimenting (it didn't take him long to find it) before striking that spot that had Fingon jumping in his arms and crying out. "Good, that's what I want. Want to see you happy, want to take you over the edge with me, Finno," he breathed, holding him still and tight and abusing that one spot over and over and over.

Fingon relaxed and yielded to his husband’s control. His hands moved above his head and twisted in the sheets, clenching tightly as he gasped and whimpered below his lover. “Russ. RussRussRuss. Melin. Melin. Tyë Melin.” He tightened around Maedhros, clenching and trying to drive Maedhros as crazy with desire as he was.

"Aughhfuck," Maedhros growled, opening his jaws over Fingon's shoulder to stifle a scream. Fin, I'm close, I need you to--I need you to come with me, Finno, please, please, love you, need you. His hips were jerking erratically, unable to sustain the desperate rhythm he has set. "Need you. Love you," he whispered, kissing Fingon's neck instead. "Come for me?"

“Russ!” Fingon nodded, his left hand coming down to tug on Maedhros’ hair. Yes. Yes please now. His hips twisted for a moment as he teetered on the edge, and then he was falling over, finishing at Maedhros’ request. His legs had moved up and were locked around Maedhros’ waist, trying to embrace him fully and Fingon gasped, breath catching and he wanted, needed, Maedhros finishing inside him, had to feel that, to satisfy Maedhros, to sate his need.

Maedhros finished with Fingon, as Fingon practically milked it out of him, his hips going on their own and his voice filling the house with their cries. Everything froze, time stopped, and then it was over, he was warm and sated and Fingon his darling his love his husband was in his arms, soft and golden and beautiful. "Wait," he murmured, before he could fall on top of him. "Need to--clean you--" and without pulling out (not yet, not while he was still even a bit hard) he bent himself in half somehow and set to licking Fingon's seed off his chest, off the gems and the gold to protect the garment. "Beautiful," he moaned, "mine," and "love," he said as he lapped it up with loving strokes of his tongue.

Fingon pet him gently, lovingly, unable to stop touching Maedhros as his husband moved over him. And Maedhros was staying within for him, was letting Fingon hold him safe and tight inside and his eyes were watering because Maedhros was beautiful and perfect bent over him and he could not imagine anything making him happier than he was in this moment. “Russ,” he whispered, sharing his thoughts. “Tyë melin. I love you so much. Thank you. Thank you.” Perfect. Beautiful. Like rose gold in the firelight. And he thought that he had to make jewelry like that, with a slight reddish tint that would look beautiful on Maedhros when he was lit with firelight.

Maedhros grinned. "I want a matching one now," he said, shivering at the thought of the metal rippling over his skin, at the thought of doing to Fingon what Fingon had done to him. He brushed Fingon's hair back with his fingers. "I love you. Tyë melin. Thank you." He could stay like this forever, seated comfortably inside Fingon, trapped there even as he grew soft, feeling Fingon swimming with his seed inside.

 

Legs slowly falling back to the bed, Fingon lay under Maedhros in a pleasantly fuzzy state. “I’ll make one,” he promised. “Or we can make it together.” There was something tantalizing about working with Maedhros in the crafting rooms of their house, designing jewelry meant to seduce and arouse. Two sets of hands creating gifts as much for one of them as for the other. “That sounds wonderful. We haven’t crafted together in quite some time. I’d like to work with you. To create things together.”

Maedhros grinned softly. "Yes. Love you. That will be wonderful," he said, sliding against him, pressing their cheeks together. "Is this comfortable? To wear? I like to see you in it, though it's not quite as comfortable to lay against," he said.

“Well… it was comfortable when I was sitting up. And recently I’ve had other sensations to focus on.” Fingon kissed Maedhros. “Do you want to read by the fire for a little while before we turn in? Maybe that would be more comfortable. Or if you want I can slip out of this.” He ducked his head, blushing slightly. I like this, though. I like how much you like it. It makes me feel... exceptionally handsome. And yes, I know that’s incredibly shallow and silly, but it does.

"Yes, please," Maedhros said. "Would you read to me as I laid my head in your lap?" That way I can still look at you.

“I would love that. When you’re ready to move, we can head by the fire-- unless you want to rinse off first? I _loved_ our time in the valley and wouldn’t trade it, but I also quite enjoy the opportunity to get into bed completely fresh and clean.” He shrugged, looking up at Maedhros with a half smile. “Anything you want, though.”

"We could wash off after? Unless--as long as you're comfortable." He slid out of Fingon gingerly, whimpering. "We don't have many books here, but I could listen to you read a roll call and be happy," he confessed, easing Fingon to his feet.

“I think you might be pleasantly surprised.” Fingon stood on his tip-toes to kiss Maedhros with the expression of a pleased cat. “Our brothers did their job well when they stocked the cabin for us. And I think I saw a few new titles in the den. Perhaps something on the awakening at Cuiviénen, if that would please thee?” Fingon slipped away, retrieving three options and returning, spinning into the room with a laugh and soft chimes.

Maedhros smiled happily and stupidly, stretching out in front of the fire. "Read to me?" He asked sweetly, reaching out to Fingon.

"Any time." Fingon settled just behind him, with sitting before the fire with Maedhros' head in his lap. He pet his hair as he spread the books out to his side. "Is Cuivienén good for you? Or I have a book on the geology of the explored areas in the northern mountains of Aman, or… ah, this is probably from Irissë's library. It's," he flipped open the book, "ah, it looks like a rather heated romance which grew between two of the Eldar who remained in Beleriand." He blushed, lightly. "The geography book could be good- especially if want to explore some of the taller peaks in the uncharted north."

"I doubt I'll pay enough attention for a geography lesson. And I may never ask for this again, but I am in an amorous mood, so I would dearly love some poetry. However, as I said, I could listen to you read it backwards and find it beautiful," Maedhros said, lying contentedly on Fingon's lap as he was. He turned to kiss his thigh and settled down to look up at him, eyes shining from the jewels reflected off Fingon's garment.

"I am thine, and thy wish is mine." Fingon ran his fingers over the top of Maedhros head for a minute, petting and massaging, before he set up the book so that it rested further down on his leg. "Ready?" he asked with a smile. He blushed slightly as he began to read, but as long as it was Maedhros listening to him reading poetry, and not one of their siblings, he supposed it was alright. Soon, Maedhros rested more heavily against him, and his posture had slumped slightly as his free hand played of Meadhros and he the first great problems in the text arose,

_"… Dread shapes arose_

_from the dim spaces_

_over sheer mountains_

_by the Shoreless Sea,_

_friends of darkness,_

_foes immortal,_

_old, unbegotten,_

_out of ancient void…”_ (2)

He shivered slightly, and leaned down to kiss Maedhros’ brow.

Maedhros lay as one under a spell watching and listening to Fingon speak: his breathing was shallow and he did not move, his eyes wandering methodically over Fingon's body and the garment, memorizing them. This wasn't dirty poetry, as he guessed or would be, but an epic--just like him to misjudge Irissë. He shuddered, too, at the mention of the void (legend to them, where the dark Melkor had been cast), but bade Fingon continue. "I love your voice," he said, and that he hardly blinked made it obvious that he was otherwise distracted as well.

Fingon grinned as a hit of color appeared in his cheeks. "Careful saying things like that, arimeldanya. I might start talking more than anyone wants me to!" He glanced down at the book again, and after stealing a kiss his continued to read.

Maedhros grinned at the threat, but was unafraid, and let the tones of Fingon's voice fall over him in warm waves. He shifted, flinging his arms around Fingon's hips in an embrace, and rather got in the way of the book until they were slotted together awkwardly, the book on Maedhros' shoulder and his neck bent at an otherwise uncomfortable angle.

Though he continued reading Fingon had to stop to laugh every few minutes as they found themselves in a new, even more untenable position. Finally the book dropped, and though poetry continued from his lips it was now about a beautiful ner with bright eyes and hair like fire spun into gold. It was about broad shoulders and slender hips, strong hands and gentle touches. His eyes never left Maedhros as he spoke, lashes fluttering as his husband shifted against him.

"Findekáno," Maedhros said, grinning fondly up at Fingon, "are you trying to seduce me?" He asked, hopeful that this was the case. "I should tell you that you are working entirely too hard, and the swept his tongue across Fingon's sex.

Fingon cut off with a moan, hand shifting to hold Maedhros there, just before him. "Russss," he whispered. "Is it seduce if it's the truth?" he added breathlessly, caressing his husband's face.

Maedhros chuckled and did not reply, bending his head to take Fingon in his mouth, swallowing him slowly deeper until he had taken him to the hilt, head back and eyes looking up at him. Flat on his belly, he couldn't exactly move once achieving this position, so he slid his tongue around and swallowed and groaned around Fingon, to simulate the simulation if he could move his head.

"Valar. Vanya arimeldanya. You're perfect, love. Perfect vennonya." Fingon's eyes were locked with Maedhros' and he did not try to hide his reaction to his husband's ministrations. He groaned and tugged lightly at Maedhros' hair between moving his hands gently over his husband's face and neck and shoulders. "Love this," he whispered. "You're amazing."

Maedhros shifted up, wrapping his arms under and around Fingon's legs. Lean back, he said, and propped himself up on his elbows, granting him a greater range of motion while he still could keep his eyes locked on Fingon.

Fingon followed his directions without hesitation, leaning back and bracing himself with one hand. "Perfect," he murmured. And, without looking away, he slowly continued the poetry that had started this, careful groups of words describing Maedhros' love and bravery, the beauty of watching him work with children, his prowess while sparring and hunting (even when he cheated). Fingon's eyes sparkled and he couldn't stop touching Maedhros, couldn't look away from him.

Maedhros chuckled, losing his concentration at the mention of cheating, and smiled as wryly as he could with his mouth full. But in this position he could bob his head back and forth, milking Fingon lovingly. You are beautiful, he insisted across their bond. You are my love, my light, my valiant one, my star, my beauty, my hunter, and I am yours. Will you let me taste you? Will you come for me? he asked, swallowing hard.

Fingon trembled and his mouth fell open in a silent 'oh' before he moaned softly, finishing for Maedhros. It was delicate and gentle and perfect, and he loved making love in this way- he wanted to give this same pleasure to Maedhros, careful and soft so that he fell over the edge with a whisper instead of a crash, and suddenly everything was fuzzy and warm and incredible. He shifted forward, unable to continue bracing himself as he leaned back, and both hands moved to his husband's hair, burying themselves in it. "Thank you thankyouthankyou." The words came in a single exhale and he focused on where he was touching Maedhros, caressing him and shifting to try to see if what they were doing had effected Maedhros significantly.

Maedhros sighed, more in love than aroused, but then he was very very much in love. After cleaning Fingon carefully and lovingly, Maedhros kissed his way up his body to kiss his lips. "I love you," he whispered, as if it were the first time he had ever said it. "You are so beautiful like this--and always. Thank you."

"You're thanking me?" Fingon huffed breathlessly, shaking his head. "I should be offering you a hundred times a hundred thanks, vennonya." He captured Maedhros' lips, stroking down his back. "Do you want to sit up arimelda? May I do the same for you?" After putting another log on the fire, he thought to himself. The fire was still hot, but the logs were burning down and he had enough embers to add a much larger log to keep the fire going for the next few hours.

"Yes, please," Maedhros said. "Only--later? In bed? Let me clean you and then, after, if you still wanted to massage--you don't have to, but if you were--" I would like to fall asleep wrapped in the bliss of your arms.

"That sounds like a very pleasant way to end the evening, My Only." Fingon smiled, continuing to stroke his hands over his husband. "Then perhaps, could you carry me to the washroom? We can bathe or take a quick shower and when we get back… I'll do my best to leave you boneless and unable to so much as string a sentence together." He pressed their lips together again, addicted to finding small traces of himself in his husband's taste. "Love you. You spoil me, you really do. I'd love you even if you didn't, but thank you. You make me feel precious. Special. Important." He squeezed Maedhros close. Tyë melin.

“If you would permit me,” Maedhros said, and encountering no resistance he scooped Fingon into his arms and laid him on the bed: “I’ll return immediately,” and he quickly retreated into the washroom to fill a basin full of hot water, scented with lavender and rosemary, which he placed on the bedside table, and a towel over his shoulder. “May I?” he asked again, before reaching to where he hadsen where the garment unclasped, and as he slid it, clinking softly, off Fingon’s body, he set it reverently aside and washed the skin beneath with the hot water. “There, is that good?” he asked.

“I feel… it’s very good, Russ,” Fingon whispered. He blinked up at his cousin. “How am I supposed to focus on you when your every touch works to undo me, to leave me confortable and relaxed and unable to move?” He shook his head and sat up partway, kissing his husband. “May I wash you next?”

"You may," he responded, "if you still want, if I'm not too much trouble. I could wait." This was primarily to be polite, but he laid himself down and passed the bowl to Fingon. "I await your pleasure," he said, shaking faintly. 

Fingon ignored the bowl at first, simply stroking his hands along Maedhros' chest and stomach. He washed him slowly and reverently, eventually guiding his husband onto his stomach and beginning again, washing from his shoulders to his feet before he touched the massage oil. He hummed lightly as he worked- their song, he thought with a smile. "Will you dance with me tomorrow, if there are music crystals here? We could spin around the living room in each other's arms, or in the field outside under the stars."

Maedhros moaned his agreement, quite unable (or unwilling) to speak. He winced occasionally as Fingon hit a sore spot, but slowly, steadily, as Fingon worked him, he was sure he was going to melt into the mattress. "Right now you could ask me to do anything for you and I would do it," he groaned. His eyes were closed and Fingon's touch and his song, and the calm love floating back and forth across their bond was warm and tingly. "I would love to dance with you," he whispered, slurred where his cheek pressed against the pillow.

Fingon grinned, kissing his temple. "Good." He pressed a line of kisses down Maedhros' back, swinging a leg over Maedhros' hips to straddle him as he continued to work. "Mmm. This is nice. Warm. I think I might stay here for a while, just like this." He poured more oil over his hands and dug them into Maedhros' shoulders.

Maedhros arched with a sudden loud groan as Fingon caressed the area of his body that was tightest and most sore--from what? it never was anything but the stresses he put on himself and which only Fingon could alleviate. "Oh, Fin, right there, there," he pleaded, and almost had to laugh, for he was only ever so desperate when Fingon was taking him or he was having Fingon. Good, feels so good, don't stop! And he only realized his back was still bowed when Fingon had to forcibly wrestle him back to the bed and rub out the tension lower down in his back. He sighed, helpless with comfort and appreciation and love and thank you thank you thank you.

You're welcome. I love you like this. Fingon smiled at Maedhros' groan as he worked out a knot near the small of his back. "We should do this every evening," Fingon said softly. "And maybe after a few days you won't be so tight. Can we do that, melda?" He moved to straddle Maedhros' thighs and continued working his hands lower.

Please please please yes, Maedhros replied dizzily, losing track of the noises he was making but too blissed to care. "Sorry I'm so hard," he mumbled. If he let Fingon do this every day (if Fingon would do this every day!) maybe the work wouldn't be so hard the next time. "Uh," he said. "I mean, my shoulders. Are hard. Well. Also." He giggled into the pillow.

Fingon laughed, hands sliding forward until he lay against Maedhros. "Tyë melin," he whispered. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the corner of his husband's mouth before he sat up. "Don't be sorry- for either one," he added with a giggle. "I like doing this for you. I'd be glad to do this for you in the evenings." He finished massaging Maedhros' legs and turned him over onto his back. "How are you feeling, arimeldanya?"

Maedhros blinked contentedly, dizzily, pleasantly up at him. "Good," he sighed, and it was entirely an understatement, but there were no words, so he didn't try. Every muscle was loose and he was warm all over, especially where Fingon's skin touched his, his body soft and hot and alive. Maedhros was so attuned to Fingon he could hear his heartbeat through the brush of their fingers, and that made him smile. "Thanks," he said, knowing again that he was the luckiest Elda in all Aman. The yawn snuck up on him, and he covered his mouth, apologizing. "Sorry, sorry. Relaxed. Not bored." He shook himself, drawing himself slightly out of that too-comfortable haze.

"I want you relaxed." Fingon kissed him. "I like you relaxed. And I won't be offended if you do fall asleep." He settled on Maedhros' stomach, beginning to work the front of his shoulders with a fond smile. "You're perfect, Russandol. Just enjoy."

Maedhros hummed contentedly, the stupid smile returning. At least the smile felt stupid, lop-sided and lazy. He never wore it except around Fingon, so he didn't know what it looked like. "Thanks," he said again, softly, stretched his legs contentedly, and let his arms and shoulders and neck and everything go loose. He could sleep just like this, go to sleep with Fingon touching him, and he would love to wake up the same. He was almost mad, almost embarrassed, that his rising sex seemed to have other ideas.

Fingon laughed and leaned down, nuzzling against Maedhros’ neck and chest happily. “Relax, darling. I’ll take care of anything you need.” His eyes were bright and he tried to show Maedhros physically and across their bond how happy he was, how much he enjoyed getting to care for his husband in this way. He began to hum again as he moved down, pouring oil over Maedhros’ torso and beginning to work it into his chest and stomach. Though his touches were gentle, his fingers lingered over areas and he began to tease slightly, feeling Maedhros rise to brush against him from behind. He slid further down onto his husband’s thighs and leaned up to kiss his husband before he continued.

Fingon's contentedness magnified his own, and he was very, very happy, pleased that Fingon had so much pleasure from pleasing him. Maedhros drifted in a sea of contentedness, unmoored and hardly caring. He was a ship and Fingon his pilot--or something. He was daydreaming, apparently. Or dreaming. He giggled as his mind came up with the necessary half-mast joke that he couldn't even say out loud it was so terrible.

Curious about Maedhros’ amusement Fingon caught a glimpse of Maedhros’ thought and blew a raspberry against his stomach in response. He grinned at the response, tickling Maedhros’ sides. Really, love? He asked with a laugh. Then, giggling, “Well, if you’re a ship does that mean your movements will depend on how I blow?” He flushed bright red as soon as he said his own terrible joke aloud, thinking it would probably be safer to have his mouth busy doing something else. He leaned down to otherwise occupy it.

"Oh _no_ you made it _worse_!" Maedhros groaned, laughing and opening his eyes just in time to see Fingon's mouth close around him and he sucked in a breath. "Ah, Fin," he sighed, hands twitching, though he was yet loathe to move. "Love--love you--feels so g-good--" he moaned softly and keened, one leg kicking though he wasn't sure he could coordinate any movements.

Fingon reached up to grasp Maedhros’ hand. Love you. Love this. He loved all of this, being together, making love, and laughing. Sharing bad jokes as they had when they were children (though admittedly the topics of said jokes had changed), and relaxing together. He liked having Maedhros so cared for and pampered his cousin could hardly move. He moaned against Maedhros, thumbs rubbing small circles against his skin where Fingon held his husband’s hips. Then he swallowed around his cousin, looking up to meet his eyes as he took Maedhros fully within him.

"Ah, Fin," Maedhros said, overwhelmed, and he stopped breathing when Fingon looked at him and swallowed him down to the hilt. "Ohh," he said softly, wanting to move, wanting to buck into the sensation, but resigning to it when he realized moving would take far more energy than it was worth, and he was so comfortable, and Fingon would take care of him, he had promised. He did squeeze his hand, and focused on the little touches: Fingon's soft puffs of breath in his small hairs, Fingon's thumbs drawing circles on his hip bones, the yielding bed beneath him, the warmth from Fingon's body over his legs, the ache where he could still feel where Fingon's fingers had pressed into him, and, of course, the soft minute flicks of Fingon's wicked, wicked tongue. He whined softly, needing more.

Relaxing, Fingon moaned again. He moved slowly, languidly, and felt as if he were floating, feeling Maedhros’ contentment as he worked. Tyë melin. I love you so much. He brought his mouth up and took Maedhros in hand as he leaned down to lathe his sac, working the area until Maedhros made a noise and he moved back up to swallow his husband down again. Perfect, darling. So perfect. He grinned the next time he pulled off. “I want to try something, beloved.” He licked Maedhros’ tip. “May I?” He took Maedhros to the root, and began to hum their tune, thumbs and fingers moving against Maedhros in time with the music.

At this last touch, Maedhros' mind exploded with white lights dancing to their tune, and he bucked, suddenly, and unaware that he even could. "Oh, fuck!" he whined, "Don't stop, don't stop." He settled back with a sigh, hips making small circles in time to a rhythm he felt more than heard. Close, Fin. Very close. Tyë melin.

Inyë tyë-mela. Then finish for me. Fingon backed off for the briefest moment to take a deep breath and then sank down again. It was beautiful, Maedhros was beautiful, laying there pleased and happy with his hröa dancing for Fingon. Love you love you. Come for me darling. Let me see how much this pleases you. My beautiful prince. My perfect husband. My Russ.

With a wanton cry piercing the quiet of the room Maedhros finished, spending into Fingon's willing mouth, and here he was surprised at how little he moved for how hard he came--a hand in Fingon's hair, a leg twitch, and his hips rocking up once, twice, three times, and that was all. He was otherwise still, and remained as relaxed as before, and was now even more boneless as the pleasure spread throughout his body.

Licking his lips, Fingon sat up. He stopped for half a minute, just watching Maedhros. “Valar, you’re beautiful.” He went back to the bowl and rinsed Maedhros after he licked him clean. “That was… you’re incredible, arimelda. Thank you for letting me do that. I’ll be back in just a minute.” He put the bowl and towel away, threw another log onto the fire, and crawled back into bed with his husband. “Love you. Thank you.” He grinned and snuggled against Maedhros, shifting his husband’s compliant limbs so that he was curled against Maedhros’ side, an arm thrown across him.

"Mm, thank. You," Maedhros managed. "Sleep. Now? Love you. Tyë melin." He could not hold his eyelids up, so he did not try, but lay boneless where Fingon arranged him, and with his last bit of strength he lifted his head to search blindly to kiss Fingon's lips, and with his last few breaths he hummed their tune, and he fell into the deepest sleep he could remember.

Fingon wriggled and managed to hook the sheet with his foot, dragging it up until he could grab it and arrange it over them. “I love you,” he whispered to his sleeping husband. He watched him until his vision blurred and sleep became impossible to resist. I love you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) If anyone is interested, the body jewelry that Fingon wears is based on the stunning jewelry worn in the short video "The Legend of Shalimar" by Guerlain (if you google the name you'll find plenty of links to it). :)
> 
> (2) The poetry Fingon reads is actually a quoted passage from J.R.R. Tolkien's _The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún_.


	9. Chapter 9

Maedhros woke with Fingon in his arms, and he knew this was going to be a good day, as the rest of his life surely would be as long as he woke with Fingon in his arms. He let himself wake slowly, brushing Fingon's hair with his fingertips and smiling over his beautiful, beautiful face, happy just to watch him breathing, just to watch him sleeping.

Fingon woke with a yawn, trying to roll over but being blocked by Maedhros. He sighed, snuggled against his husband, and relaxed. "Morning," he whispered, one eye opening for a brief moment to focus on his cousin.

"Morning, darling husband," Maedhros said, nuzzling his cheek. "Go back to sleep if you like. You just look so cute. I could watch you all day," he giggled softly, kissing him. "And so warm and soft. I never want to leave our bed."

“Hmmm. Should I be insulted that you’re calling me warm and soft?” Fingon sighed and snuggled closer. “I think I like it,” he whispered. “And I like this.” He glanced up from where his head rested on Maedhros’ chest. “It reminds me of when I was very little and would lay half on you just like this--well, we’d be clothed, of course, but aside from that.” He grinned. “You would read to me and hold me close and I’d kiss your cheek and fall asleep in your arms.”

Maedhros grinned. "Of course I remember it. I wanted every morning to be like those mornings. You're just so cuddly!" he squeezed him tightly. "That hasn't changed."

Fingon flushed and grinned, sneaking up to smoosh a sloppy kiss against his husband’s cheek before catching his lips softly. “Tyë melin,” he whispered. He shifted so that he rested further on top of Maedhros. “I wanted that as well. And I want every morning from now on to be like this--unless you are waking up in my arms, or I’m waking up with you inside me… any way with us together is good.”

Maedhros huffed. "Oh. I'd forgot about that," he said, flushing brightly. "On a less lazy morning, perhaps," he suggested. "Or if you take too long to wake up. I love you loose and relaxed and waking up with me already inside you," he grinned, kissing him and wrapping his arms tightly around him.

Fingon smiled, framing his husband’s face. “I love thee. Have I told you how much I love you today? More than the earth and the sky, the stars and the Trees- more than precious metals and the gems of the Noldor I love thee, my light, my life, vennona Nelyafinwe Maitimo Russandol.” He flopped back down. “But this _is_ a wonderful, lazy morning. May I ask what vennonya ancalima ar anvanya has planned for today? If anything--a perfectly lazy day is quite alright with me.”

"It is." Fingon kissed his chest and looked back up. "Fondue sounds _wonderful_. And you know what? No matter who else tries to make it--myself included--no one makes it as well as you do." He let out a huff of laughter. "You could even get me to eat veg with my meals when I was little!"

Maedhros laughed. "You were a stubborn little bugger--allegedly. Everyone else always spoke of how strong-willed you were as a child. But you were always a perfect angel for me." He kissed Fingon's brow. "Good. Then fondue. Maybe a quick breakfast and a walk outdoors? Or something? A ride? Or would you like to stay inside?" He scratched Fingon's back lazily, not wanting to move yet himself.

"A walk would be nice." Will you let me hold your hand the whole time? I might not let go. "And I wouldn't mind saying hello to the horses." Fingon smiled, arching lightly against Maedhros' hand. "Feels good," he murmured, feeling just as relaxed and lazy as his husband. "And of course I was perfect for you-- I wanted to be perfect for you. You were-- you remain-- my hero and my best friend. I've never wanted to let you down- that would be too unacceptable to imagine. And you've always been smart and thoughtful and considerate; you explained things so that it was easy to see your point of view and do as you wished."

Maedhros blushed. "I just like talking to you. I always have. And yes: when we walk you may have my hand, to do with as you will." He kissed Fingon again.

"Perfect," Fingon whispered. "It sounds like a wonderful way to spend the day. Now, tell me, what would you like to do right now? Shall I get a fire going if we're going to stay here a bit?" He leaned up and rubbed their noses together. "Do you want me to make breakfast and bring it to you in bed?"

"Oh, no," Maedhros said, lifting his head. "I want to make breakfast for _you_! Or we could make it together. But I don't want either of us to move right now. I'm enjoying far too much lying in a bed with you and having you as wholly mine. Though the rest of my life should be filled with this, I will never become accustomed to it nor take it for granted." He smiled brightly. "I just want to hold you and touch you, just like this. If you're cold you could let me on top," he added cheekily.

"Weeelllllll… I'm not against staying here, but I quite like having you on top of me. So if you're willing?" He shrugged one shoulder, the sheet falling further down and dropping to his hips.

Maedhros quirked an eyebrow and grinned at Fingon before flipping them over quickly, pressing their lips together as he came down heavily atop him, and pulled the blankets up over them both. "That's better," he said, and pinning Fingon's arms by his sides proceeded to cover his face with many tiny kisses.

Fingon giggled, wiggling under his cousin. He looped his arms loosely around Maedhros' neck, and pulled him down to capture his lips. "Tyë melin," he whispered. "Mmm. I like have you over me, pinning me." Fingon smiled. "My beautiful husband," he whispered.

"I like to have you, any which way," Maedhros replied. "I like to be had by you. I am yours as you are mine." He rocked his weight against his cousin. "But I do like the way you wriggle."

"Then this works out well." Fingon leaned up and nipped the tip of Maedhros' nose with a smirk. "Love this. Love you. How did we live so long without this? You have ever been first in my heart, but how did I live without your mind in mine, without our fear joined together? How did I ever sleep without you beside me or under me or on top of me?" He shook his head. "I can't even remember."

Maedhros hummed. "Nor can I. Or--I can, but it was a dark period before your light, and not worth dwelling on. I am just so very happy." Since he couldn't stop smiling long enough for a kiss, he pressed their brows together and just shared the bliss of the moment.

Fingon relaxed in Maedhros' embrace. He did not know how long they stayed like that, but birds had long been singing and the light of the trees was brightly shining before they moved from the bed. At length, Fingon shifted under him, pressing a trail of kisses along Maedhros' jaw to his ear. His stomach made a soft, hopeful sound. "Russ? I'm a little hungry. Would you like some breakfast or, ah, would you like to try to work up a bit of an appetite before breakfast?" A hint of color rose in his cheeks at what he was suggesting so matter of factly.

"Yes, sorry," Maedhros said. "I forget I have you always, not just in bed. I'd like to have you sit with me and sip hot tea while I make you breakfast. But first," he said, and slid down Fingon's body to kiss the head of his sex, "if you don't mind, I'll take my breakfast."

Fingon hummed with a smile. "Can I sit on the counter so that I'm close to you?" he asked. "And perhaps help a little?" He reached down to pet Maedhros' hair, moaning softly as his desire began to awaken. "Love you," he whispered. "Please. I don't mind at all. Though I may have to—ah--return the favor." Fingon met Maedhros gaze, his mouth falling open as he moaned softly.

Maedhros smiled and nodded as he grew bolder and licked the object of his desire. "Love you," he whispered, teasing him to some hardness before taking him in his mouth.

Eyes slipping closed, Fingon focused on Maedhros’ mouth around him and the feeling of his cousin’s hair beneath his fingers. RussRussRuss. He worried his bottom lip with his teeth, and suddenly found himself looking up at himself, mouth filled and eyes wide open. Russ?! Oh, oh my Russandol. Fingon sighed, perspective flickering between his own and his husband’s. “Thank you, Russ. So good. So perfect. Thank you.” This is a perfect way to start the day, beloved.

Maedhros flickered, too, at once tasting Fingon and feeling his mouth on him. Oh Findekáno, how I love thee. Let me do this every morning. At least the mornings you wake up with me already inside you.

"Always," Fingon groaned. Always, always, always. Can you feel? Do you feel? He flickered again, looking down at Maedhros and up at himself. "Need you. Need you arimeldanya, please." Fingon's hips rolled as he began to move his hands soothingly through Maedhros' hair, massaging his husband's scalp. It was a terribly selfish act as he both enjoyed pleasing his husband and experienced the scalp massage himself as his senses mingled with those of his husband. "Always want this. Always wanted this. But I never knew it would be so perfect." Thank you, thank you, love you. Love you so much Russandol. Russanya. My prince.

Maedhros was purring around him, closing his eyes to the touches as he slid up and down Fingon's length. Love this, love you. And because he knew Fingon was close already, Come for me, he asked, swallowing hard around him.

"Russ!" Fingon breathed. He was swept over the edge gently and effortlessly. Perfect, perfect, love you! His hips rocked up and his eyelids fluttered. Even with his eyes wide open he saw nothing but a starburst of color except for when he saw himself, back arched and mouth open in ecstasy. "Oh, _Russ_!"

Maedhros drank him down, holding him and holding him over the edge, delighted by the noises he made and how he wiggled. Oh I love you I love you, Maedhros said, and once Fingon was finished, "I love you," he said. "Thank you," he added as he licked him clean.

Fingon tangled his hands in Maedhros' hair and pulled lightly, moaning. He let out a huff at his husband's final words. "Thank _you_. You take such wonderful care of me arimeldanya." He lay back, relaxed and calmed by Maedhros' ministrations. "Kiss me?" he requested quietly. "Please. When you're done." One hand fell to Maedhros' shoulder, squeezing gently.

Maedhros grinned and first kissed his way up Fingon's warm, naked chest. "Beautiful. Love you," he hummed, finally setting over the top of him and kissing his lips.

Hand continuing to grasp his hair Fingon held his husband to him. Thank you thank you perfect love you. He licked at Maedhros lips and nuzzled against him, unable to stop smiling. "Will you let me taste you, as well, vennonya?"

"Mm, yes," Maedhros said, blushing slightly. "I think--" and here the thought escaped unintentionally, of Fingon on his knees in the kitchen while Maedhros cooked--or tried to. He giggled and covered his face. "Or--here."

Fingon's smile widened. He adored this playful side of Russ as his husband suggested things that made him duck and blush even now with only the two of them present. "Love you," he whispered. He gently tugged Maedhros' hands away and leaned up to kiss him. "I would like that very much. Do you think you can stay focused on cooking while I'm on my knees trying to distract you?"

Maedhros shook his head. "No, not really," he tried to back pedal. "It's a silly idea."

“I like your silly ideas.” Fingon leaned up to kiss the tip of Maedhros’ nose. “Of course, your ‘silly’ ideas always seem to go quite well for us. Are you sure?” He trailed a hand down Maedhros’ back. “I would love to show my appreciation for you even as you make our meal.” He shrugged. “Or I can sit on the counter and help you as we suggested earlier.” Snuggly wrapped in a blanket, of course. He drew his hand down, between their bodies, and cupped Maedhros. “Either way, I would very much like to take care of this for you.”

Maedhros now shivered himself, and found himself nodding. "Yes, please. Both?" He grinned, face bright red. "I think I would like to see you crouched between my legs, wrapped snug in a blanket.

Fingon stole another quick kiss. "Should we get up, then?" He squeezed Maedhros and after releasing him Fingon stretched luxuriously, arching up against Maedhros. "And if you wrap me up so that I'm nice and warm we can head to the kitchen and see where things go from there."

Brightening, Maedhros yanked the blanket from the bed and laid it out, dropping Fingon on his back on top of it. Folding up the ends, he proceeded to wrap Fingon in quite snugly, so only his head and half his hair poked out, and then tied the ends tightly, so that Fingon was unable to escape. "There, how's that?" he asked, a wicked gleam in his eye.

Fingon's eyes danced. "You'll have to carry me out. That aside, I don't know… how well I can take care of you decides on how much I can move. So how much do you want my mouth on you? How much of an opportunity to distract you should I have?" His eyes trailed up and down along Maedhros. "I'd very much like to distract you."

"I think I like you better where I can keep track of you," Maedhros said, getting out of bed and pulling on a long shirt before heaving Fingon into his arms. He carried him through the house into the kitchen where he set him on the floor while he lit the stove.

"You're mean," Fingon complained. He was warm, though, and Maedhros was only a foot away. He scooted close and leaned against his leg, squirming until he was kneeling in front of his cousin. He easily nudged Maedhros' shirt up and licked up his cousin's arousal with a broad swipe of his tongue. "Mmmm. Perhaps I could grow to like this."

"Mm, good," Maedhros hummed, "because I like you there." He indulged himself for a few short minutes before-- "Okay, wait, wait. Let me get all the things I need. Then I'll be back." He brushed his fingers through Fingon's hair and went to the cupboard. "Waffles?" he asked beginning to get ingredients down.

Fingon’s eyes tracked his cousin as he moved around the kitchen. “Waffles sound wonderful. I could work on a fruit salad or a fruit topping to go with them,” he offered. “After I finish my before breakfast treat, of course.” He smiled, sitting back. “I want your knees shaking, arimelda. I want you coming undone above me while you try to keep working.”

Maedhros was already wobbling when he returned, lifting his shirt to give Fingon full access. "I don't think that will be a problem," he whispered, already distracted by Fingon's mouth. After a moment, "Oh, waffles," he said, and dropped his shirt on top of Fingon's head and began to mix ingredients.

Everything grew darker and Fingon leaned forward, bracing himself against Maedhros so that he could stay upright. He was enclosed now- it felt like slipping under the sheets in the morning to wake Maedhros up this way. The corners of his mouth twitched upward and as he heard Maedhros stirring ingredients, and he dove down to swallow Maedhros fully. He hummed a bar of their song, pressing against his cousin and holding him safely within. Love this. Tyë melin, Russandol. I love you my husband.

Maedhros hummed together with him, working quite efficiently, he thought, until-- "Fuck!" he realized, fishing eggshell out of the bowl, and only then realizing that there was flour and splatters of milk and sugar everywhere. "Oh, Fin--Finno--I can't do this," he moaned, leaning over against the counter. It was dizzyingly good.

You can. Fingon pulled off just long enough to tease Maedhros’ tip with his tongue and then dropped down again. You can do _anything_. I love you and I believe in you. Come on. Want you to keep making waffles for us. If you keep working, I’ll keep working. He swallowed as the last thought flew between them, taking Maedhros deep again and continuing hum. Love this. Love having you like this.

"Ohh. Oh!" Maedhros cried, gulping, hips shifting as he slowly went back to his waffles. He could do this. Had he put baking powder in yet? And Fingon liked chocolate in his waffles. It was very hard to concentrate.

Fingon had mercy on him, pulling off for a moment and instead nuzzling around Maedhros, kissing his hips and nosing against his short hairs. “This is lovely,” he whispered. “I like you like this,” Fingon whispered. He took him down again with a moan. Will you come for me like this? And then I can help you with breakfast. Or will you have the waffles all mixed and ready to heat?” He poked at Maedhros through their bond, asking if he could see how the waffles were coming along.

Maedhros opened himself up, the pleasure dizzying, letting Fingon feel what he was doing to him. There was...something in a bowl. That might be waffles. At some point. He didn't even know. "Findekáno--need--I need to--" his hips were gyrating impatiently.

Can’t move fast. I can’t-- have to balance. You can-you can move me. If you want. Fingon pulled back for a moment, offering to let Maedhros guide him. Please let me finish you, let me taste you. But you can help if you want. It would be messy, with Maedhros’ hands covered in flower and egg bits and waffle mix, but if would be worth it. And they could always take a shower or a bath. Maybe they would in any case.

With his last bit of careful thought, Maedhros wiped his hands on his shirt before tangling his fingers in Fingon's hair, and with a grunt he released all semblance of restraint and rutted into Fingon's hot, waiting mouth. "Yes, yes, yes, close close gonna--" and it was over, he was shooting hot and warm deep in Fingon's throat, his legs wobbling as he slid down to join Fingon on the floor, gasping as he pulled him into an embrace.

Fingon moaned through it, clinging to Maedhros until his husband shifted too quickly, sliding down next to him. Fingon curled against him and sucked at a spot on Maedhros’ neck, not yet ready to have his mouth empty, not ready to be finished. Thank you, thank you, thank you, so good, so perfect.

Humming contentedly, Maedhros dipped his fingers in the spilled sugar and such them in Fingon's mouth, delighted at the cute little suckling motions his mouth kept making. Thank you, he replied. Thank you. He did eventually untie the blanket bundle and helped Fingon sit on a stool by the counter as he returned to the mess he made of their breakfast.

“Does it make me too selfish to want more, still?” Fingon asked. “I would have you in my mouth again, take you over the edge again, right this moment.” He relaxed with a pleased sighed as Maedhros began trying to save their breakfast. “Can I help with anything?” he asked, lying his head in his arms on the counter.

Maedhros chuckled. "You could certainly try, though I can't say how responsive I'd be." He handed him a cup of tea with milk and sugar. "Suck on that for a while. You can clean up after," he said.

"You just don't want to clean up," Fingon teased. "Thank you," he added, taking a sip of tea. "Warm and sweet. Like you."

"I don't want to clean up," Maedhros admitted with a wicked grin. "You know how I hate it." He pulled the waffle iron down and finished mixing the batter. "Chocolate chips, yes? I think I started putting them in but never finished."

"More chocolate never hurt anyone," Fingon answered. "Choc-o-late." He grinned, sticking his tongue out at Maedhros. "I'll clean up if you start a shower or bath for afterwards."

"Gladly," Maedhros said. There was, to his mind, nothing kinder and more loving than an offer to do dishes. He laughed, reminded of Fingon's speech as a child. "You were so cute when you spoke like that. You still are, of course."

Fingon flushed. "Only for you," he whispered. He grinned, slipping off the counter and stepping up to Maedhros. He wrapped his arms around his husband from behind and pressed close to him. "I love you," he whispered, nibbling Maedhros' ear. "And that brings back some very good memories- begging you to make chocolate dishes and adventuring with you. Making and eating teas and fondues. You helping me learn about new herbs in the garden… even accidentally eating unripe gooseberries!"

"That was hardly my fault. You waved them in my face so excitedly, I though they were grapes!" Maedhros protested. "Anyway I rather like them sour," he teased, rocking back against Fingon.

Fingon groaned lightly. "And I think you rather like them sweet," he whispered, continuing to nibble on Maedhros' ear. "I can be very sweet for you, if you want me to." Shivers raced down his back as they moved together, and he could feel the hair on his arms and legs tingle. "Valar, what you do to me, melda. I'm not even… you could bring me to completion even now." He shook his head. "We're supposed to have breakfast, though." Despite his words he was rocking forward against Maedhros. "Should I leave you alone so you can cook? Or can you concentrate if I stay--" he broke off with a small gasp as Maedhros' hips moved unexpectedly, "--right here."

Maedhros bit his lip. "Don't leave," he said, reaching back to pull Fingon forward--he was hard already--and stepping his feet together, he created a channel for Fingon to thrust into. "Like that?" he whispered, taking the ends of the blanket and knotting it across his chest so they were bound together. "Or did you want more?"

"Oh!" Fingon gasped against him, shifting to thrust deeper. "That's… that's perfect, darling. Thank you. So good." He whimpered, sliding his hand down to curl around his husband's desire. He let out a huff of laughter as he felt how hard Maedhros was. "I think you're enjoying this just as much as I am," he whispered in Maedhros' ear. "What do you think? So hard already, darling. Will you let me taste you again? Or are you going to finish with me this time?"

"Ahh--" Maedhros groaned, catching Fingon's wrist. "Not in our breakfast, preferably," he moaned, struggling to concentrate as he put a waffle on to cook.

"Hmmm- the essence of Nelyafinwë Maitimo. It would be a princely contribution. But I suppose we can do without it on our waffles," Fingon murmured. He thrust forward again and gasped against Maedhros' ear. "Feels _so_ good. Even this. Even without being fully inside of you. Especially with, with the bond. Especially now. Can you feel how tight you are, Russ? How amazing you feel?"

Maedhros flickered, feeling what Fingon felt for a moment before he pulled back. Breakfast, he was making breakfast. He definitely wasn't burning waffles. "Love you, Fin," he sighed. "Makes me wish you were actually inside me right now."

"Do you want that?" Fingon asked suddenly. "If you can keep the waffles from burning I can grab the olive oil and…" he nuzzled against Maedhros' neck affectionately. "we can do that. If you want." He thrust against Maedhros firmly. "But you have to tell me soon, or that will no longer be an option."

Maedhros growled, nodding, not sure what he was getting himself into. "Yes. Yes, but--but you'll have to go slow. Slow so I don't--so I don't finish--yet--" he gulped. They could take a break. They could be anywhere in this house. However, kitchen sex was what his body wanted, apparently.

Fingon grinned. "Get the waffle cooking. Then you'll need to step backwards with me." They were still tied together with the blanket, and Fingon could not bring himself to separate them even for a few seconds. "Tell me when you're ready," he whispered, turning his face to mouth along his husband's neck as they continued to grind together slowly.

Maedhros nodded, removing one waffle and adding a new one. "Okay," he said, still unsure about it, and let Fingon guide them backwards.

Moving quickly, Fingon grabbed the bottle and ushered them forward to the waffle maker. "Perfect, he whispered. He slipped a hand free, oiling his fingers before moving back to give Maedhros a cursory preparation. "Love you," he whispered. "Tell me when you're ready." He snuck a second finger inside, and a third. "May I enter you, beloved? Will you welcome me inside and hold me close?"

Maedhros nodded dizzily. "Ready, ready," he gasped. "Want you in me." He spread his legs to a wider stance, not only to open himself up more fully, but to line himself up better with Fingon's shorter legs.

"Good. I love you so much, vennonya." Fingon held Maedhros' hips gently and as he slid home. He exhaled sharply, and pressed another kiss to where his husband's neck and shoulder met. "Perfect," he whispered. "Beautiful and wonderful and perfect. I love you." And then, "How are the waffles coming?"

"D-don't say that word," Maedhros managed, with a small laugh. He swallowed with some difficulty and gauged the batter. "Two more? I think." The one in the waffle iron finished, and Maedhros removed it, nearly burning himself, clumsy with desire as he was.

"Careful. I don't want you to get hurt." Fingon moved one hand forward, holding Maedhros' after he finished pouring the next waffle. "Now, move with me. Want to finish as our waffles finish. Well, I want to finish." He kissed the side of his husband's jaw. "I expect you to hold on until we're sitting down at the table or on the couch. And then I'll kneel before you, and worship your hröa, and taste your essence. Does this plan please you?"

Maedhros nodded, unable to speak with how much this had him aroused. Yes yes please, he said. (Why the kitchen? What was with his kitchen fetish?) He rocked his hips back and forth, trying to bring Fingon to finish.

Fingon moaned, rocking harder against Maedhros. “Hmmm, I think I like the kitchen too,” Fingon whispered. “You’re very much in your element here. And I like you like that-- fast and sure and creative and artistic. You’re hands are so graceful when you work with them-- I could write a thousand poems about how they look moving in the morning light.” He bit Maedhros’ shoulder lightly. “How close are we?” he whispered. “I want to finish when you finish… breakfast. And then we can move somewhere where I can finish you.”

"I'm reduced to nothing by your touch: neither fast nor sure nor creative--certainly not in my element." He groaned and arched back, and poured the last waffle. "Last--last one," he managed, leaning heavily on the counter. "Fin, I don't know if I can last," he gasped.

“You can,” Fingon whispered. He wrapped his hand further around Maedhros’ body and splayed his fingers across his husband’s stomach, pulling him back against his own form. “You can do anything, Russ. If you wanted to, you could find a way to fly.” Fingon’s voice was soft and sure, as certain of Maedhros as he had been as a child when he thought his hero could do not wrong. “One more. You need to hold on, and you need to bring me to completion.” Fingon groaned as his cousin shifted and squeezed around him. “Need you to do that for me now, arimelda.”

"Ahh--uhh---" Maedros whined, rocking back against him with hard and sharp movements, tightening around him, trying to ignore his own arousal. "Fin, need, need--love you--want--" he gasped and panted.

“Close,” Fingon moaned. “Close, Russ. Please.” He ducked his head, tucking it against Maedhros shoulder and throat and he pulled Maedhros back against him as he began to pound into his husband. “Tighter. More. Please more. Need-“ and then Fingon was shaking and biting down on Maedhros’ shoulder, riding the edge for a minute before he let go and poured himself into his husband with a muffled scream. PerfectloveyouneedtotasteyouRussRussRussRussRuss.

Maedhros reached back to tangle his fingers in Fingon's hair, groaning as he milked him through his orgasm, shouting equal and oppositely FinFinFinFinFinFin, holding onto his pleasure without spending. He leaned forward as far as he could, to support Fingon as he went weak-kneed, and took the last waffle off the iron. "L-love you, Finno," he hummed.

"Mmmmm." Inyë tyeë-mela. Fingon leaned heavily on Maedhros for a minute, grateful for his support. He let out a small sound of loss when he pulled out, standing shakily, and turned Maedhros enough to press a gentle, lingering kiss to his mouth. "I'll grab plates and napkins. Where do you want to eat- the table, the couch if I light the fire, or in bed?"

"The, ah, the couch," Maedhros said, and he shared the memory of the first time they sat there as lovers, and Maedhros had been the awkward one though Fingon was the teenager. Now Maedhros felt dreadfully empty, and also dizzyingly hard, and he wondered how much more awkward this would be. He moved waffles to plates but didn't get much further, fingers fumbling.

Fingon grabbed the plates, jogging out to set them on the coffee table before coming back to help Maedhros. He stumbled at his husband's thoughts, moaning at the memory though his body was wrung out and unable to physically demonstrate his desire. He took Maedhros' arm in his own, guiding him forward with a smile. "Love you. Thank you. The waffles smell wonderful," he said with a grin. He settled Maedhros on the couch and returned to the kitchen, grabbing two glasses of juice before joining him. "Now… before we start, I would very much like to taste you vennonya." Fingon kissed Maedhros' brow and his lips before sliding to the floor, kneeling between Maedhros' legs just as he had the first time on this couch. Do you remember this? Our first time? I was so desperate to taste you, to please you. I never imagined you would allow such a thing so soon, but when you suggested I give you a demonstration--I was so happy, beloved. "This is a perfect way to spend the morning," Fingon murmured with a soft smile. Meeting his husband's gaze he slid down, taking Maedhros fully into his throat and swallowing.

"Oh!" Maedhros cried, startled by the sensation taking his breath away, and he let his head fall back. "Yes and I remember I didn't want you to do this," Maedhros said. "Because you shouldn't debase yourself so for me. Because I think I liked the idea far too much--oh, Findekáno!" He suddenly yelped, and nearly came right there. "Fin, I'm so close. Please may I?"

Yes. Want this; want you. And I'm not debasing myself. I'm showing reverence toward something worthy of admiration. I'm worshiping your hröa. Worshipping you. This is exactly where I want to be--  where I should be. Fingon began to him softly, hands rubbing his husband's hips and sides. Please finish for me darling. Please let me taste you. Please, yes, now.

"Ai, Findekáno!" Maedhros screamed, and with that shout he came, entire body going taut before he dropped limp and weak back against the couch. "Oh, Fin," he gasped, reaching out to him, watching mesmerized by his tongue and mouth moving over his flesh.

Fingon licked at him gently and thoroughly until his husband was clean. Then he slid up Maedhros to straddle him and brought their lips together. "You're amazing, vennonya." He stroked Maedhros' hair, and clung to him until he began to worry about their breakfast-- which smelled wonderful-- cooling off. When he let go with a sigh he started the fire and returned to curl up next to Maedhros while they ate.

Maedhros took a few more moments to recover, just watching and touching Fingon. He pulled him into his lap, ignoring his breakfast in favor of pressing a series of grateful little kisses along Fingon's neck and hair and shoulders and face. "Love you. Love you so much," he sighed, his hold loose and fingers loving. Eventually he reached for his waffle, but ate one-handed, refusing to let go of Fingon.

"Love you more," Fingon countered, returning each kiss with pleasure. "Mmm. Want to try my waffle though." He leaned back and managed to snagged a waffle--possibly one of his--and joined Maedhros in eating one handed, seated flush against his cousin. "Actually… do you want to try something?" Fingon flipped around so that his back was pressed to Maedhros' chest as he continued to straddle his cousin. Maedhros' chin fit over his shoulder and he turned his head to the side, pecking his husband on the cheek before he took another bite. "These are _delicious_ , Russandol. Thank you!"

"Mm, good, yes," Maedhros said. "They're not as good as you, but I like to try to keep you happy," he laughed, and turned them so he leaned back against the arm of the chair, holding Fingon in his lap and leaning his head against his shoulder. "Comfortable?" he asked, setting his own plate on Fingon's chest and eating from there. He'd given up on trying to use a fork and was eating the waffle like a piece of toast.

"Wonderful," Fingon answered. "You make the best cushion and the best pillow. Though I fear I'm quite a bit heavier than I used to be." Fingon continued to eat as well, trying to finish his half of the waffles before they cooled off. "So… dare I ask what you have planned for us next? Well, after I get up and wash dishes." Not that he had any desire to move from exactly where he was, except to reach far enough to grab his tea and take a sip. "Do you want some?" Fingon offered his own cup.

"Oh, yes. I meant to bring mine over." He laughed, "Except I was distracted." He gratefully took a sip of Findekáno's mug. "I have no plans. We could nap like cats in the light of Telperion and Laurelin all day for all I care. As long as I spend it with you, I will be happy."

"I like sharing a cup with you. And the same is true for me, though I fear if neither of us will choose to do something we _will_ end up laying about all day. Not that that's an entirely bad plan. But for the moment, I'd best get the dishes cleaned." He shifted to kiss Maedhros and took a last sip of tea. "Wait for me?" Fingon stood, draping his sheet around him like a garment, and pulled a warm blanket of his cousin. He added a couple of logs to the fire and disappeared with their plates to clean the dishes and waffle maker as quickly as he could.

Maedhros settled comfortably, letting his eyes drift half-closed as he watched and listened to Fingon move off. He lay splayed out and limp across the couch, sated and feeling very in love. He didn't let go his connection to Fingon, but was with him, was holding his hand, and while more than once, in spite of himself, he went to get up and help Fingon with the cleaning up, Fingon always pushed him back down, and he hummed gratefully. As he rested, his strength returned, and he began to consider plans for the day. A picnic might be nice--for they could get a walk in--even a long walk, and still look forward to a nap in the light of the Trees at the end.

Fingon finished cleaning quickly- he was highly motivated this time- and returned to tend to the fire and settle back on top of Maedhros, this time facing him. "Have you come up with any plans, arimeldanya? I would do anything you asked today."

"A few," Maedhros said, wrapping his arms happily around Fingon and licking a smudge of chocolate from his cheek. "We could go for a walk and pack a picnic with us. Or we might just take a walk and return for an early dinner fondue. Which would you prefer?" he asked, sneaking his hands under Fingon's blanket and squeezing the globes of his backside.

Moaning, Fingon ground lazily against his husband. "Let's do a picnic," he suggested. "Then we can have a fondue dinner a little later. "With choc-o-late!" he added with a grin. He squirmed under Maedhros' hands. "If you keep doing that we may not manage to even leave the cabin."

Maedhros huffed. "Oh, all right," he said with a smile, and kissing Fingon instead, he sat up. "Though don't think that after thirty years of restraining myself that I _enjoy_ it." He got unsteadily to his feet, the ache noticeable but not unpleasant. "Would you let me dress you if I dressed to match?" he blurted out suddenly.

A hint of color rose to Fingon's cheeks. His first thought was of Maedhros dressing him in his jewelry and revealing a matching outfit--he knew his husband would not have such a thing, and he chastised himself for thinking it. His second thought was a remembrance of being very young and having Maedhros, tall and handsome and perfect, helping to lace and button him into his garments, tightening his shoes and tying back his hair before declaring him fit to go out. "I'd like that," he admitted quietly, looking over Maedhros' shoulder. "You may dress me, and undress me, any time you would like. And after thirty years of restraining yourself," he added with a smile, "feel free to be unrestrained as often as you would like. If you want me this very moment… I am yours. Just tell me your desire, or show me, and I will do my best to make it come true."

Maedhros grinned, going to Fingon's things and rummaging through them. "I do hope you brought it," he said, and "Oh!" as he found the blue shirt and trousers made from nothing but sheer material. "Come here," he said, beckoning Fingon over. He wanted to actually _dress_ Fingon, too.

Fingon followed along willingly, taking Maedhros' hand as he stepped over to him. His eyes widened slightly at Maedhros' thought, and the flush spread down his neck and chest. Especially since they were going to go spend time with the horses. He leaned against Maedhros as he imagined walking behind his husband as he moved along in such a garment. "I'm not going to survive our honeymoon," he whispered. "I love you, Russ."

"Where would I be if you didn't survive our honeymoon, darling?" Maedhros said, taking Fingon's hand and kissing it. He bid him step into the trousers and slipped them up his legs, lacing them up. Standing, "Raise your arms," he said, reminded of dressing a much younger Fingon as he dropped the shirt over the top of his head and pulling his arms through. "You know, I remember this being much _larger_  on you," he said with a cough, for now it was not only sheer but attractively tight on his cousin's body.

Fingon laughed and spun in a circle, arms spread wide. "It's all for you--you know that, don't you?" His arms dropped as he looked at Maedhros earnestly. "Everything--for you, for us. I love you dearly. And I've spent decades trying to grow stronger, faster, smarter, more knowledgeable…" He bit his lip. "I'd do anything for you."

Maedhros clasped Fingon in his arms: "Just so is everything I do for you. You have grown fair and strong and quick and clever--but remember that I loved you when you yet needed my help to sit up. I love thee, and always shall." He pressed Fingon into a kiss before reaching for his own bag and withdrawing a matching outfit cut of sheer white cloth. "I had this made so we could--um--" he blushed. "I've only tried it on once, and it made me thing I should have had it made of a darker fabric but, well--" He put it on. It left very little to the imagination.

"Oh, Russ." Fingon's hands traced over the material, trembling. "You are most beautiful, vennonya. You always are, but this… you steal my very breath away." He took Maedhros' hand in his own, lifting it and planting gentle kisses across the back. "I love thee," he whispered, trying to swallow. He was half-hard again and was sure he would remain so for however long Maedhros wandered around dressed as he was. Fingon felt a keen sense of empathy as he remembered how Maedhros had acted the first time he wore his outfit.

Maedhros' eyes sparkled, delighted to see in Fingon at least half the bewilderment and arousal his garments did to him in turn. "Well. We should go pack our picnic. We could at least try to get out of the door before one of us attacks the other." He chuckled and grabbed the oil and a few towels for cleaning in case they got a little too active and headed into the kitchen.

Fingon twitched, body reacting as Maedhros grabbed the oils. "Valar, Russ. We'd best hurry if we want to get out of the house before I _must_ have you again or let you have me." He brushed against Maedhros, fitting himself behind his cousin's body and hugging him tightly. "Tyë melin. Now what should we pack? Sandwiches, perhaps?" Fingon grabbed out a few apples and quickly sliced them and coated them in cinnamon and sugar before wrapping them for later.

Maedhros made short work of packing things to make sandwiches, rather than wasting time making them. He filled a pouch with water and another with honeyed wine, and wrapped two cold waffles in cloth and placed them on top in the basket. Taking up the basket in his left arm, he held out his right hand to Fingon: "To do with as you will," he said, remembering Fingon's request to hold hands during their walk.

Fingon took Maedhros' hand with a grin, squeezing it tightly. "Then I shall hold it and cherish it," he whispered, kissing his husband's cheek. "Do you want me to carry anything?" He almost walked into the door as they left, eyes constantly drawn to Maedhros, and to the way the barely there fabric draped over him, accentuating his husband's beautiful form.

"No, just--" he tugged him out of the way of the door. "You could open that rather than walking into it," he teased. "We'll wait til we get out in the open where we can just stare at each other continuously while we walk. Oh, wait! Let's bring some apples for the horses," he reminded Fingon, pulling him back inside to the fruit bowl where Fingon rested three apples in the basket before they left the cabin.

Once outside, Fingon leaned against Maedhros, hands tracing over his chest and torso, following the muscular lines there. "I love you," Fingon whispered. "And you are absolutely stunning in the light." His hand drifted lower and his fingers lingered over Maedhros, caressing his awakening desire teasingly. "Melindo, thank you for this. It's beautiful up here. And our valley was spectacular. And you, my prince, are spoiling me rotten." Though he wasn't sure he wanted to complain about that.

They've seen… been involved in… far more than that. Fingon sent his memory of riding double behind Maedhros, grinding against him, and then getting back on his own horse and watching as Maedhros pulled himself out and sat proudly, shoulders back. Maedhros had gripped himself, slowly stroking at Fingon's urging. "Mara aure, girls!" Fingon called, tugging Maedhros forward. "Do we have the apples ready?" All three horses' ears picked up at the word apples, and Fingon laughed.

Maedhros laughed. "Well pardon me for being a timid exhibitionist," he said, though the horses didn't seem to mind. "Yes the apples are here," he said, not letting go of Fingon's hands but holding out the basket to him.

With a grin, and a wink, Fingon grabbed the apples and began offering them, with praise and sweet nothings, to the horses. And then, while they munched happily, he stepped back, behind Maedhros, transferring Maedhros’ hand to his free hand and slipping his arm around his husband’s waist, between his shirt and the basket. I think I rather like a tiny bit of exhibition, though, he thought as he cupped Maedhros and squeezed. Then he slipped his hand back out, remaining behind Maedhros and brushing against the back of his pants. He tucked his chin over his cousin’s shoulder and began poking through the basket, looking for a snack for them.

Maedhros coughed and squirmed, but couldn't let go of Fingon's hand and couldn't let go of the basket, and he was trapped between the milling horses and Fingon's body. "Ahh," he said, "you like more than a little, I think." His mare nickered and teased him, and he waved the basket at them. "Oh, shoo. If you're all right and you're only going to tease me, you can be along."

Fingon grinned. “I hope you’re not shooing me,” he whispered, nipping at his husband’s ear. “And just so you know, I was going to stop. I though I could only tease a _bit_ , but with the clothing _you_ chose we’re rather stuck.” He grinned. “Shall we keep walking? Down by the willows, perhaps?”

"Yes," Maedhros coughed, comically aroused by this point but making a valiant effort not to give in just yet. "But I'm definitely too big for willow swinging now, and you probably are. Although," he considered, "if it broke and you landed in the lake, I wouldn't mind seeing you soaking wet in that thing."

"Oh, you wouldn't, would you?" Fingon grinned. "We'll have to take care of that. Come to think of it, I would like to see you in our shower, water pouring over you while you wear practically… nothing." He rocked forward against Maedhros and then pulled away. "Come on, we were going to walk. And I wouldn't mind trying to swing- just a little and with a big handful of branches." He moved next to Maedhros again, and his breath caught at the sight of his husband, breathing deeply with a flush that was spreading across his chest. "Vanya. Anvanya." He squeezed their joined hands. "If I try swinging will you catch me if I fall?"

"Of course," Maedhros said automatically, "though I should plunge into the lake with you. Although I'd be loath to let go your hand for any reason," he reminded him, giving it a squeeze. "A-also. I'm not sure how much further I can walk," he said sheepishly, "before I must have you."

With a cough and a choked inhale Fingon tripped. He would have fallen but for Maedhros hand quickly shifting to tug him up and balance him. "Russ!" He looked at Maedhros, eyes widening at his husband's evident arousal. "Want to touch. You are… you are perfect love. But… but not… I mean… if you can, if you want to, can we wait until after lunch? Or until we're setting up lunch?" He bit his lip and looked at Maedhros hopefully, imagining the wait would make it even better when Maedhros entered him and filled him.

Maedhros chuckled. "I'm not going to ravage you out here in the middle of a field, if that's what you mean," he said, pulling Fingon's hand to him and kissing it. "But neither do I think I'll wait until after lunch. You've teased me far too much, and I've nothing against ravaging you beneath the willow tree." He tugged insistently on Fingon's hand and pulled him toward the willows, grinning wickedly.

 Laughing, Fingon went with him and increased their pace until they were running, hair flying out behind them and the basket swinging wildly on Maedhros' arm. I love you I love you, this is wonderful, this is fun, this is good, this is right. Thank you, thank you my husband, my prince. Fingon threw his head back, grinning at the sky until they reached the willows and Maedhros was pulling him into the shade, or he was pulling Maedhros-- it did not matter which.

Still laughing, Maedhros pushed Fingon against the trunk of the tree, dropping the basket but not letting go of Fingon's hand, and kissing him passionately. "You," he gasped. "You tease. You like this. You like me half-mad with lust and desperate for you." He sucked on the lobe of Fingon's ear while his hands stroked him through his sheer garments.

Fingon whimpered and thrust against Maedhros' hands. "'course I do. I love having you nearly as desperate for me as I am for you." He pressed them together, rising onto his toes to kiss Maedhros deeply. He loved when Maedhros was so desperate for him he no longer felt any need to hide it or to deny himself. He knew his husband loved him and desired him, but to see it so plainly before him was incredible and something he would never tire of. "May we… may we leave these on? I like having you dazzle before me. We could just move the pants, just enough- want to see you above me, and to ride you and look down on you." He panted and shifted to grab Maedhros' arousal in turn, squeezing. "Please tell me you're ready. Tell me what you desire." A moment later Fingon's hands slipped back behind Maedhros and grabbed his rear, pulling them closer together.

"I desire you," Maedhros growled, taking both of Fingon's wrists in one hand and pinning them above his head while he busied himself divesting Fingon of his trousers and freeing his own cock. "Naked. I don't want to dirty or rip your clothes, though I'll leave mine on if you like." He sucked a bruise on Fingon's neck, fondling his balls almost roughly before kissing him, nibbling on his lips. "Do you want to get undressed, or would you like me to?"

"You," Fingon whispered, beginning to tremble. He arched into his husband's touch. "Please help me undress, Russ," he whispered, as he had many years--decades--ago when he was much younger. Then, still in a soft voice, he continued. "Please fuck me or make love to you however you desire until you are sated and entirely satisfied. I'm afraid I've been paying too much attention to you to find any fascinating sticks or pretty rocks to gift you with, so I suppose I'll have to offer myself instead." He stood flat on the ground and tilted his head up to offer a kiss and to accentuate the difference in their heights.

"Ooh," Maedhros said, and, "ohh," letting his breath out in a groan. "You...you," he grinned. "Lift your hands, then," he said, tugging Fingon out of his shirt and hanging it in a branch high above their heads before dropping to his knees. "All right, step--and--step," he said, getting him out of his shoes and his trousers. While he was down here he rummaged through the basket for the oil. His hands were shaking but he pinned Fingon against the willow as he took him into his mouth.

"Mmmm. So good, Russandol! You're so good at everything." Fingon continued to speaking a higher, softer voice than usual. His hands were in Maedhros' hair before he realized it, petting him. He shook, and his toes curled as he entered his husband's warm, wet mouth and he moaned. "Want you to feel good, too. Please, Russ. I'll be a good boy, I promise. I'll be your perfect boy. Please let me help you find release."

"O-ho," Maedhros said, popping off where had him in his mouth and trying to glare but grinning. "You have got to stop that, you naughty boy," he said, though without much force, for he was embarrassed by how much he liked it. "You are going to make me wicked. Come here and get on your hands and knees if you want to be a 'good boy'," he growled.

Fingon dropped onto his knees quickly, bracing himself with shaking arms. "All yours, Russ. You always take such good care of me. I feel empty-- will you make me feel whole? Please fill me up, Russandol." Fingon carefully proved their bond, wanting to make sure his guess was correct and that Maedhros was enjoying this. He almost fell as he was hit with a wave of their combined desire. "I'll be so good-- or, if you want me to be naughty, I'll be your naughty boy. I'll be as naughty as you want. As long as I'm yours." He glanced back over his shoulder. "Do you want me to be very naughty and wicked?" He enunciated the words carefully. "Do you want me to open myself up for you?" Fingon would never know how he managed to say that with a straight face and a perfectly innocent tone of voice, but he did. But the reaction from Maedhros was well worth the effort.

Maedhros' mouth flapped. "No. Yes. Um. Just--" he collected himself, "just you hold still. You're already being naughty enough, thank you," he said, clearing his throat as he coated his fingers in oil and forced entrance to Fingon's body, hoping that might shut him up.

"I'm stuffed, Russ!" Fingon declared happily. He wasn't quite ready to end the charade, and continued voicing the 'younger self' ongoing commentary. "Feels… big. Full. You're _huge_!" Rocking forward as Maedhros pressed against him teasingly, Fingon almost collapsed and let out a giggle before he managed to control himself again. "You make me seem very little," he stated. "Like a stuffed bear for you to cuddle with. Are you ready to cuddle with me? To fit us together as snugly as you can and let me embrace you as much as I can?"

"I--oh, Eru," Maedhros groaned, hardening even as he narrowed his eyes. "Stop that," he said, and smacked Fingon sharply against his backside, adding a second finger without much preparation.

"Owww! Russ! You're hurting me!" Fingon turned to look back at Maedhros, eyes tearing up. "I'm trying to be good--I mean naughty--I mean, what will please you." He looked at his cousin accusingly. "You're supposed to be pleased and fill me up, not _hit_. You always treat your gifts like treasures," he added as an afterthought.

"Then hush," Maedhros said, leaning over him as he added a third finger. "You are my treasure, now, hush," he cooed, grabbing Fingon's jaw to pull him into a kiss as he opened him up. When he was done kissing him, Maedhros slipped two fingers inside Fingon's mouth. "I know you liked this as a child," he hummed. "Always like to have something in your mouth. Only way to get you to stop crying was to give you something to suck on. You _still_ like things in your mouth, don't you?" he asked, of course meaning something very different.

"Mhmmm." Fingon answered around the fingers, sucking on Maedhros greedily. He lathed them with his tongue, trying to press back against him. Please will you put yourself inside me and claim me as your own? Fingon was rocking between Maedhros' hands, blissful and comfortable though he still desired the rest of what his husband had promised him.

"I will, yes, I will," Maedhros told hm, covering him with his body. "Want you quiet. Can't think with the cutesy baby voice. I'm torn between just wanting to fuck you and change your diapers." He pressed against the nub of pleasure inside Fingon before withdrawing his fingers and slicking up his sex. "Gonna have you," he growled.

You have me. You’ve always had me. Fingon thrust back plaintively, begging for Maedhros’ touch. And then, with a child’s voice singing along their bond, he added, don’t you know you’re my hero? I’d do anything for you and I love you the mostest! Please take good care of me, Russandol. Pretty please?

Maedhros thrust inside him, either awfully turned on or wanting to shut him up, and he let Fingon get used to him for only a few seconds before setting up a punishing rhythm, dropping his hand out of Fingon's mouth to brace himself. "Uhh, you feel so good. So tight and warm. Love you," he huffed.

"Love you lots!" I love you always, vennonya, Fingon added silently in his own voice. Feels so good. Thank you. Thank you. "Am I being a good boy, now? Your good boy?"

"Yes," Maedhros growled, sounding more conflicted than pleased. He took a handful of Fingon's loose hair and pulled his head back until he could kiss him. "You're my very good boy. You'll get an extra cookie just for taking my cock," he hissed.

"Oh _fuck_!" Fingon gasped and moaned, clenching around Maedhros. This was supposed to be for _you_ , he thought desperately. "Just for taking your cock, prince Russandol? Does that mean if I'm very, very good at it," here he thrust back forcefully and tightened around Maedhros, "I can have two extra cookies? Pretty please, Russ?" Fingon's fingers were tearing at the grass and he wanted to touch himself but he dared not move either of the arms he was using to brave himself as they moved together.

Maedhros stopped breathing for a moment, overwhelmed, then covered Fingon entirely with his body, and reached around to hold his sex. "Yes, yes, all the cookies you could ever want, my pretty boy. Gonna make you come so pretty for me, want to hear you squeak," he gasped, lost to the pleasure of it and pounding into Fingon.

Fingon did squeak as Maedhros took hold of him and began moving his hand. He whimpered, focusing on their rhythm and trying to keep moving against Maedhros. "Love you. Love being your boy, your little one, your prince, your husband. Russ! Close!" His hips jerked. Are you ready, Russ? Going to finish, need to-- please!

"Yes, yes, come for me, my boy," Maedhros growled, twisting his hand and driving into him hard. "My good boy, my delicious boy, going to spoil you until you're my little brat," he said, biting into the back of his neck.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh, Ruuuuusss!" Fingon made breathy sounds each time Maedhros pounded into him until he teetered over the edge with Maedhros name pouring from his lips in a drawn out moan. When his husband continued rocking into him urgently Fingon's moaning turned to a scream. Perfect, perfect Russ! Yours, _your_ boy, your love, your husband, oh vennonya, I need thee. Please fill me! Please finish for me Russandol! Fill me with your seed, claim me, show me I'm yours. "Please, Russ!" he whimpered in a high, wavering voice. "Please fill me up. Make me all yours-- only yours. Promise I'm yours forever."

Maedhros finished with a groan, spilling into his love, marking him, owning him. "Mine," he growled as jerked erratically through his completion. "Love you, love you, mine." His bites turned to kisses, his hands gentling, and he gathered Fingon into his arms as their breathing slowed together.

Fingon collapsed against Maedhros, his arms no longer supporting him. He panted, dizzy and with bright spots in his vision. "Valar, Russ," he croaked. "That was...ah... intense." He flushed bright red, squirming in his husband's arms until he had turned enough to kiss him. Love you. That was incredibly, darling. "Did you enjoy that?" Fingon laughed after a moment, "going to turn me into a brat, are you?" He grinned broadly, eyes dancing as he looked at his husband. He felt light and carefree, cared for and sated as they lay together in the grass.

"You're going to turn me into a wicked, dirty old cradle robber, so I felt turnaround was fair play." He folded Fingon into his arms and rocked him, holding him tight as they settled. "Love you," he said, kissing him gently now.

"I most certainly am not," Fingon protested. "The only Elda I am trying to get you to find pleasure with is myself." He traced his husband's cheek gently. "And I am of age, and you are mine, and I am yours." He brought their mouths together in a chaste but lingering kiss. "We waited-- you waited for me and now we are wed and bonded and nothing can tear us asunder." Fingon sounded entirely smug about that. "Your payback was quite enjoyable, though," he admitted, legs shifting.

Maedhros sighed and smiled, relieved and comforted by Fingon's words. Of course he remembered a time when he desired Fingon when Fingon was not even matured, and although he had never acted on it, he still felt guilty for it. Now Fingon was old enough and they were wed, it was titillating to play with the idea of it, though Maedhros always threatened to feel dirty or guilty afterwards. Not so now, when Fingon was so happy and contented, and he was happy, too. But he knew it was a dangerous line. "Don't get it into your idea to misbehave just so I punish you. I'm glad to do it if you just ask nicely," he teased right back.

"It's not exactly punishment when I so enjoy it," Fingon replied, laughing. "And it's all in good fun. You know that I love you? And that I will never be uncomfortable thinking about you loving me or desiring me?" Fingon hugged his husband. "I've told you before that I think I received the easier lot, being born second. I never had to exist without you, and never felt guilty about desiring you, my fears that I was not worthy aside." They kissed again, heartbeats slowing as they remained pressed together. "Tyë melin, vennonya. With all that I have been, am, and will ever be."

Maedhros clasped him close, unwilling and unable to let him go. "Thank you. Tyë melin," he replied, kissing him softly across his face. "I know you love me. And I know you had it 'easier', but I would not exchange our childhood friendship for anything. You know I just like to worry," he added with a laugh and a shrug. "Now. Would you like to stop and eat here? Or should we walk on? And--" he plucked up Findekáno's trousers and held them out of reach, "should I give you your clothes back or not?" he teased.

"I don't know." Fingon grinned. "Do you want to see me, or do you want to see me? I'd like you to wear yours-- you look beautiful shimmering in the light." He kissed Maedhros again with a soft smile. "I'm not too hungry. Would you like to walk for a while? I'll even carry the basket if you want." He stretched languidly before rising and looking around where they had stopped, trying to choose a direction to walk.

Maedhros laughed. "All right, no, come here. Put these on. I know it's not much different but, well, they are beautiful garments." He helped Fingon dress again and took his hand again--the same one. "I don't mind carrying it," he said, picking up the basket. "Lead on."

Fingon slipped his hand back into his husband's and chose a direction. "I know what you mean; yours are quite beautiful as well." He leaned against Maedhros. I'm so happy, Russ. This is wonderful. "Let me know when you want to eat? Unless our stomachs betray us first."

"The only thing I'm interested in eating is you," Maedhros said, and then laughed. "If you'll pardon the awful joke." He grinned and shrugged. "Let me know when you're hungry. I could feast my eyes on you only and be content," he added, "--there, better? Poetry." He laughed at himself and shook his head.

Fingon rested his head on his husband's shoulder with a wide grin. "I think I like your poetry. I may have to ask you for more of it later." He squeezed Maedhros' hand. "And I would quite like to feast on you later as well-- feast my eyes and feast… other things."

Maedhros blushed. "I knew I shouldn't have said it," he mumbled, though he secretly enjoyed Fingon's playfulness. "Yes, well. When I compose some poetry you shall be the first to hear it," he offered, swinging their hands as they walked along.

"I'll hold you to that," Fingon answered happily. They walked in silence for a time, until they reached the top of a small hill where they could see a glimpse of the cabin in the distance. "Here?" Fingon suggested. "If you think we've worked up enough of an appetite this morning?"

"Yes, this seems a good place. Surrounded by sky. Nowhere near as lovely as your eyes, though," he said, leaning forward to peck Fingon on the cheek. Setting the basket down, he reached inside for the blanket to sit on. "May I have the use of my hand back please?" he asked playfully.

Fingon blushed, wordlessly squeezing Maedhros' hand for a moment. "I suppose, if you must," he sighed. He grabbed one edge of the blanket and helped Maedhros spread it. He flopped down happily and patted the spot next to him. "Sit with me?" The sky may be beautiful here, but I would much rather be looking at you, arimeldanya.

Maedhros sat down heavily beside him, and leaned in close to kiss his nose and smile so broadly it dominated Fingon's vision. "I would always rather look at you than at anything in Arda." He captured Fingon's lips with his own and kissed him tenderly, leaning in until he had his arms wrapped around him. "I didn't hurt you earlier, did I? Wasn't too rough?"

“No. No, melda. It was wonderful.” Fingon held Maedhros, equally careful and gentle with him. “It was just as good for me as it was for you. Thank you.” He nuzzled against Maedhros playfully before pressing their foreheads together. “I hadn’t realized how much I wanted that.”

"Wanted...rough sex?" Maedhros asked, pulling back to look at Fingon, though he did not let go of him, and laughed. "Any time!" he said, pulling Fingon onto his lap and closer to him. "Or did you mean something else?"

“Both?” Fingon straddled him happily, enjoying the closeness. He looked down and quickly looked back up, as glancing down showed him _everything_ despite their being clothed. “As a game, I liked playing… me… for you. And I liked how you spoke to me and how I spoke to you. I liked how you felt when I was doing that. And I liked how you took me.” Fingon tilted his head up to peer at Maedhros curiously. “And you?”

Maedhros bit his lip and shrugged, glancing away. "It worried me. A little. I--I don't want you to think that even in my most depraved moments that I would have ever _wanted_ you--l-like that, when you were--when you were that small," he stammered, suddenly. "Even when I--" he pulled back slightly, "yes, I admit I desired you carnally when you were so young that acting upon that desire would have been unconscionable--but--even then I wanted to be--gentle. Um. I'm sorry. I like it. Only. Maybe I shouldn't like it?" He shook his head. "It's never good when I think about it too much," he concluded, burying his face in Fingon's neck.

Fingon held Maedhros close, stroking his hair gently and humming softly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Should I not have done that?” He pressed his lips to the top of Maedhros’ head and rocked them gently. “I could _never_ think ill of you, Russ. Never. I love you, and I trust you, and… since the beginning keeping games and serious things separate has been important for me. I promise I won’t confuse them. And I won’t think that what you do now means that _then_ you wanted… the same things.” He stroked Maedhros hair again. “I enjoyed it, but we don’t have to do it again if you don’t want to. I want you happy and comfortable; I don’t want to hurt you.”

"No, no," Maedhros mumbled, keeping his face pressed to Fingon's shoulder. "Didn't hurt me. I'm all right. I liked it. A lot.  Just." He paused. "Does it mean I shouldn't be allowed around children?" He finally blurted out.

Fingon’s mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. “Valar, Russ, no!” He was clinging to Maedhros now, as though he could protect him from the thought if he ensconced his husband tightly enough within his arms. “No! I am the other half of your fëa, Russ. I’ve always loved you, and you’ve always loved me, and the way we expressed or wanted to express that love changed as we grew older. Just now--that was a game, nothing more.” He pulled back and tilted Maedhros’ chin up, kissing him gently. “I love you. I love you, and you’ve done _nothing_  wrong,” he whispered. “Surely you don’t think of Ingoldo or the Ambarussa or Nerwen with lust?” He knew perfectly well that his husband did not. “You’re the most incredible Elda with children, and they adore you. You’re gentle and kind and patient and you always think of what is best for them. Like you said, you could even get me to eat green veg without complaint. Of course you should be around children.” A tear rolled down his cheek and Fingon sniffled. If I could give us children… if I could give you children of your own don’t you think I would already be begging you to let me do that? You are a wonderful brother, cousin, teacher, friend… and you would be the best father to ever have lived.

Maedhros held onto Fingon's middle and squeezed him tightly, flushing and also puffing up with Fingon's words. He felt as if a great burden had lifted from his shoulders. It didn't matter if what Fingon said was true or not, to him, it only mattered that Fingon believed it, and it was enough, for Fingon would ever be his compass. Not his parents, not the wisest of the Eldar, not even the Valar, and maybe not even Eru Iluvatar. Fingon. He swallowed hard. "I--you're right. I'm sorry I was--I just--wanted to make sure," he said unsteadily. "I know you're right. I shouldn't have even thought it. It is just a game, and one I enjoy if you do," he said, with more certainty. Then he looked at Fingon, and kissed the tear from his cheek. "If you could give me children of our own. If I could give them to you," he breathed, shaking his head slightly.

“I’m too greedy,” Fingon whispered. “I have you. And I am yours. That is more than I ever imagined could be.” He buried his face in Maedhros’ neck, tears continuing to fall silently. “You’re more than enough. And I shouldn’t even dream… This--this is everything. Please don’t doubt yourself. And don’t do something only because you think I’ll enjoy it.” Fingon squeezed his arms tight remembering their first fight and remembering his father bringing up children for the first time. And he thought of how Ingoldo’s eyes still danced whenever Maedhros offered to take him exploring in the cave systems or tree climbing or riding- and he could not imagine taking that away from their younger cousin, who adored Maedhros almost as much as Fingon did. “If you ever feel unsure, Russ, please let me remind you,” he murmured against his husband’s neck. “Because you are good and pure and beautiful and wise, and I will happily remind you of that any time you need reassurance or simply want to hear a kind word. You deserve that and more, my prince and my light.”

"Thank you, thank you," he whispered. "I don't deserve it, but somehow you always reassure me. You are my life, my love. Thank you. I love you. My everything, Findekáno. I would endure anything to make you happy, but rest assured this was no such thing. I loved it. I love you. I'm sorry I was worried." He kissed Fingon chastely, gratefully.

Fingon held tightly to him with arms and legs as he closed his eyes and accepted the kiss. “Thank you. Please don’t be sorry. And you deserve so much more. You deserve everything I have to give.” He leaned forward catching Maedhros’ lips again. “Tyë melin. And thank you for playing, and for making me desire you so much I could barely speak at times. You work perfect.” As always. Fingon rubbed their noses against each other. “Do you want to make sandwiches together?” he asked when his stomach chose that moment to make a questioning gurgle.

"Yes," Maedhros said, but before letting him go, "but only if I have made you certain of my desire for you, and my surety in you, and my pleasure in the game we played." He watched Fingon carefully.

Fingon nodded his acceptance and tucked himself close to Maedhros, holding open his end of their bond in invitation. “I love thee and I trust thee, vennonya. You can look if you want.”

Maedhros smiled shyly. "I'd look only to see your beauty. Not because I didn't believe you." And touching their brows together their fear touched, souls mingling, hearts slowing to beat together. "I love thee." When he was calmed by this, and when Fingon's stomach grumbled again, he turned to the basket with a laugh. "How may I serve you, love?" he asked, laying out their wares.

“Sit beside me,” Fingon requested, “and eat with me.” His lips twitched lazily. “Touch me- an arm around my shoulders or waist or your knee brushing against mine. And if you want something name it aloud or across our bond or just reach out and take it.” He bit his lip and looked up at Maedhros. Is that good?

"Could I sit like this?" Maedhros asked, wrapping his legs around Fingon where he sat, at his side but facing him. He could turn and make a sandwich like this, and did so, layering meat and cheese and a sweet balsamic chutney and tomatoes and a large leaf of lettuce.

Fingon nodded, leaning against him. “I like this,” he murmured. “Now, do I get to make your sandwich?” he asked, reaching for the bread. He layered the food, using the chutney, ripped pieces of cheese, and chunks of tomato to create a rough approximation of Fëanor’s emblem above the meat. He chuckled as he worked at it, eventually handing Maedhros the open sandwich to cover himself.

"It's lovely," he grinned, taking it and eating it as-is, touching Fingon as much as he could.

Fingon dug into his own sandwich, moaning at the first large mouthful. Your sandwiches are _amazing_ Russ! “How come I can use the same materials you use to make myself a sandwich, and it never turns out more than half as good as the sandwiches you make me?” He shook his head in mock exasperation as he continued to eat. “I like this,” he added as he finished. Walking with you, chatting and sharing out bond and dressed so that nothing can be hidden. Thank you for suggesting this and for choosing our garments.”

"I like this, too," Maedhros replied, fingers scratching gently up and down Fingon's spine as they finished eating and started in on the apples and the honeyed wine. "Thank you for sharing the afternoon with me, and for letting me choose our garments. Would you like to plan our evening, then?" he asked, grinning softly, leaning in to breathe in Fingon's scent.

“It might be fun and then lazy,” Fingon warned as he took a sip of wine. “I sense fondue in our future, and eating by the fire, chocolate fondue for dessert, and possibly eating it off your skin. Then a shower and a bath, perhaps some more hot chocolate? And ending the day in bed with you.” Fingon leaned forward to steal a quick kiss. “At least, those are my thoughts right now.”

Maedhros pulled Fingon against his chest, rocking them, kissing his brow. "Ah," he sighed. "that sounds lovely. You sound lovely. Always. I would be honored to share such an evening with you."

"Then those can be our plans. Though we can always make changes as the day progresses." Fingon smiled against Maedhros' chest and tilted his head up to kiss him. "Tyë melin. Thank you for a wonderful day. For a wonderful week. It's been more than I ever dreamed."

Fingon nodded in agreement, loath to move. "Want to keep walking when we finish the apples?" He licked his fingers, enjoying the cinnamon sugar mixture that clung to them.

"I would," Maedhros said, catching one of Fingon's fingers in his mouth and licking it clean.

"Taste good?" Fingon asked. He shifted over Maedhros, kissing him deeply and trying to steal the last taste of cinnamon from him. When he stood he pulled Maedhros up with him. "Ready? We can pack up and walk a little more if you want?" He grinned and jumped slightly. "And then fondue!"

"And then fondue!" Maedhros agreed, grinning broadly and picking up the basket. "You look beautiful," Maedhros said. "In case I haven't said that today," and squeezed his hand.

Fingon hummed lightly, leaning against him. "Thank you. You look quite dashing, yourself." He rested his head on Maedhros' shoulder and shifted to press their sides fully together. "Lunch was wonderful. Much better than the last time we decided to do a full picnic lunch out with horses and sandwiches and a long walk." He shook his head remembering smiling and laughter and Russ and the pain-so much pain. He shivered lightly and focused on where he was now, safe and blissful with his husband pressed against him.

"Oh--" Maedhros wrapped his arms protectively around Fingon, brow creasing. "No stray arrows to hit you here, love," he assured him, kissing his hair. "Do you want to go back inside?" Perhaps from Fingon's own concern, now he felt insecure in the open sky, too, and wouldn't mind having Fingon under a roof (and under him).

"We can start to head back-- perhaps curve around to the side and walk by the stand of trees over there?" Fingon pointed as he spoke. "I'm not scared. Not here with you. But I also wouldn't mind playing some board games with you and working on broth and cheese sauce and dipping materials." He turned and kissed his husband. "You were wonderful then. You were scared, but you still took excellent care of me." He held Maedhros tight for a minute before they continued to walk, turning to loop back around and begin to head toward the cabin.

"I was more than scared," Maedhros said, unable to call up words to describe what he felt seeing Fingon bleeding and in pain. "But. We are safe here. Would you like to continue walking? We can head back whenever you like, and take as long of a long way home as you want." He kissed Fingon's hand and banished the memory from his mind. "I would like to play a bit of chess, though, and take our time making dinner." He smiled and kissed the top of Fingon's head as they walked.

"We can start taking the long way. Chess sounds wonderful. And perhaps some go?" Fingon tilted his head up and smiled at Maedhros. "Tyë melin, Russ." He jumped up to kiss his husband. "Want to stick fight with me if we can find some good ones on the way back?"

"A stick fight?" Maedhros said, raising a challenging eyebrow. "If you're in a losing mood," he teased.

"Unless you plan to cheat again, don't be so certain you'll win," Fingon teased back. "Besides," he added, eyes glinting mischievously, "I'm not sure that anything ending with me on my back with you on top of me, potentially poking me with a very large stick can be called something other than a victory… for me."

Maedhros laughed. "Then to the victor belong the spoils, eh?" He slung an arm around Fingon's shoulders and mussed his hair playfully, as he did when they were youths (and once Fingon had outgrown his fear of his hair being touched). "I'm willing to take that bet. What rules would you suggest?"

Fingon smiled. "Hmm… if we find the right sticks- or we can go search for them tomorrow- we keep going until someone is pinned or yields. And there are no rules, how does that sound?" Though I wouldn't mind yielding to you any time. Earlier was… that was lovely Russ. He looked up at his husband through his tousled hair. But perhaps later you can be very, very gentle with me. Would you like that, as well? To treat me like your delicate little Finn and take such very good care of me?

Maedhros grinned. "Who's to say that isn't what I would do with you if I won? Treat you as a princess," he teased, "or a delicate flower. I'd be careful to feed you and keep you clean and just as happy as you liked."

"Is that your way of promising to take a bath with me?" Fingon jumped up to kiss his husband's cheek. "I think I like that plan. Perhaps I'll _let_ you win, vennonya, just for that." They continued to walk through the fields hand in hand. Fingon shifted closer still as they turned to move more directly toward the cabin, letting go of Maedhros' hand to wrap an arm about his waist.

"And here I was planning to lose intentionally," Maedhros laughed. "What a battle that would be!" he said sarcastically. He wrapped an arm over Fingon's and around his waist, pulling him close and hooking a hand in the waistband of his trousers just to be in contact with his skin.

"What a battle that would be!" Fingon chuckled. "It would only happen to us, melda. Well, I'm not seeing sticks yet, so perhaps for today we can bathe and take care of each other without it being because one of us has won a match." He shifted, enjoying Maedhros so close to him and enjoying watching is cousin. "You shimmer. You sparkle like the most beautiful Noldo and still I can see _everything_. It's fantastic darling." After a moment, he smirked. "So… this outfit is a gag gift from my dear brother-- you know this. Dare I ask who provided you with yours?" His smile widened at the thought of Maedhros requesting such clothing for himself.

"I think I shall keep that secret for myself," Maedhros said, not wanting to share the embarrassing details of that day. "Oh, look, we're home," he said, seeing the cottage as they crested a hill. "Race you?" Before waiting for an answer he took off running down the hill.

Fingon took after his husband with a joyful shout. "Russsssandooollllll!" He sprinted forward, downhill, trying to get close enough to launch himself onto Maedhros. Maedhros shimmering, fully visible form acted as a powerful incentive as he raced toward him. He shot a mental image at Maedhros of his husband's muscled thighs and rear shifting and glinting in front of him along with the powerful shot of desire it caused.

Fingon's vision of him was distracting for its obscenity, and Maedhros stumbled enough that when he heard Fingon leave the ground he knew he wasn't far enough away and Fingon slammed into him from behind and they rolled almost to the doorstep with an Oof! As it happened Maedhros ended up on top, but wriggling with Fingon clasping him from behind his cousin soon had him on the ground.

He worked to pin Maedhros, hands and thighs shifting over him. As soon as Fingon had him fairly pinned he ground against him with a loud groan. "Russss! Did you do that on purpose? Are you _trying_ to kill me, beloved?" He sent Maedhros another image, highlighting how beautiful his husband looked, how he almost glowed as he ran and how he shimmered as though he were dusted with gems, the stretching of the garment alternatively hiding him and revealing everything. "Valar," he whispered harshly, grinding down again. "Need you. Love you so much." He snuck a hand beneath his cousin, fingers wrapping around him over the cloth of his trousers.

One arm pinned behind his back and the other above his head, Maedhros was quite effectively, and quite suddenly pinned. "Forgot how good you are at--" he was going to say 'wrestling' until Fingon snuck his hand between his legs, and, "Ohh," he moaned, hips bucking. "Oh!" he cried, trying to squirm free.

"Do you _want_ me to stop?" Fingon threatened. He squeezed Maedhros firmly and continued to move against him. "I think I want more outfits like this," he said softly. "Enough so that we can use them without worrying about destroying them. I want to see how far I can press into you without removing your trousers, and how much we can get you to tent your own out. Would you like that, arimeldanya? To feel me pushing inside of you without even waiting long enough to unclothe you? To take you while you are still shimmering and shining." He nibbled at his husband's ear, still careful to keep him pinned down. He could smell grass and greenery and Maedhros' sweat. Unable to resist, he licked at his husband's neck. "I think it would have to be in front of a mirror," he said thoughtfully. "That way I could look up and see how beautiful and desperate you look, wearing raiment that looks to be made of tinted light. And I want you to look up and see how breathtakingly gorgeous you look as I take you." He rolled his hips against Maedhros again in promise. "Would you do that for us? Do you think you would enjoy that?"

Maedhros whined and rutted into the Fingon's hand. "Yes, you--" he hissed, going still with a soft whine. A vision of Fingon tearing his trousers down the seam just to get at him thrilled through his mind, though he tried to cover it up, flushing red with exertion and embarrassment. Fingon had hooked a leg around his, pinning him more completely as he was forced to imagine this in front of a mirror--he had no idea what his face looked like when Fingon took him like this, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

“You look most beautiful,” Fingon whispered. He began to stroke along the fabric surrounding Maedhros’ desire. “You’re open, even if your jaw is tight with ecstasy. But my favorite thing is the look in your eyes. You look at me like I am your world, like I am everything you could ever want and am giving you everything you’ve ever dreamed.” He risked moving a hand long enough to tilt Maedhros head to the side so that he could kiss him. “Your pupils expand so that there is only the smallest ring of color in your eyes, and I can see my reflection in them clearly. You look happy, fervent, caring, and desperate. And after, your entire body softens.” Except for those few times when he was worried or they had been interrupted. “You look entirely relaxed and open and gentle. And you cling to me as much as I cling to you- as much as I have always clung to you. If you are willing to see, we can explore trying things in front of a mirror, or we could have a mirror placed over one of the beds in our house. Our house,” he repeated with a smile. “I like the sound of that.” He kissed his husband again, continuing to move over him. “Only if you want to. And there’s no need to answer now. We can always decide we want to try it at a future date. We have forever, after all.”

Maedhros felt his stomach flip-flop nervously, but also with desire, and he whimpered and nodded slightly. Maybe. Yes. Only. Now? Now he was very hard, and Fingon had him right where he wanted him and Maedhros _liked_ it. "Please, Fin," he begged, biting his lip and squirming slightly.

Fingon sucked at his throat until he had raised a mark. “Please what? Please head in and work on dinner?” He ground down. “I don’t want to ruin our trousers. Perhaps we should get up and walk inside so that we don’t damage them right now? Or do you want me to take them off and have you here? Every time we come back here we’ll look at the front of the house and remember joining here under stars and sky.” I’m rather partial to the last, darling.

"Yes, here," he groaned, arching. "I'm yours. Please, Finno," he whined, burying his face in the earth, ashamed of his need and what Fingon's knee planted between his legs was doing to him.

“You are mine as I am yours. But for this moment do you yield to me? I need you to confirm that out loud, to know that you won’t spin us around and try to pin me the moment I let you go. Will you let me have you here and now?” Desired thrummed through their bond, promising pleasure if Maedhros would only let him guide them.

Maedhros nodded quickly, biting his lip. "Yes. Yours. I yield," he gasped, and to prove it, he forced his straining limbs to go lax.

Fingon moved off of him almost instantly, rolling Maedhros onto his back and kissing him softly, lips barely brushing together. “Please close your eyes for me, beloved. Just for a few minutes. You’ll know when you can open them.” When his husband’s eyes were fully closed Fingon began to untie his trousers and slide them off, gently kissing along his stomach as he did so.

Maedhros whined as Fingon moved him, immediately missing the pressure at his back, but he closed his eyes obediently, and wriggled slightly as Fingon touched and kissed him, divesting him of his grass-stained clothes.

"Tyë melin," Fingon whispered. He slid off his own pants and took Maedhros into his mouth happily, gratefully, and as he did so Fingon fumbled for the spilled basket finding their oil and slathering it over his fingers. Can you feel how soft the grass is under you? And the caress of the light on your hröa? You're glowing, vennonya. I could spend an age just doing this and count myself the most blessed Elda in Aman.

"Fin," he choked, tangling his fingers in Fingon's hair. This was--he had been looking for something rough and hard--he had wanted it--but this was--wonderful. It was sweet and it felt _good_. The light of the Trees was warm on his skin and Fingon was gentle and he was so very in love. "May I open my eyes?" he asked softly.

Fingon pulled off of him, squeezing Maedhros’ hand gently. He was still half-open from before, and while he desired to sink into his husband slowly and passionately, the desire to ride him in the bright light of day upon a bed of grass proved greater. He shifted, straddling Maedhros and guiding him with a hand, sinking onto his cousin. “Now,” he whispered, the moment he his husband began to enter him, before Maedhros had time to fully process the move. “Look at me, vennonya.”

Maedhros opened his eyes with a gasp to see Fingon over him, the stars behind him, his body naked and gleaming and sliding down his cock. "Ohh--Fin--" he whined softly. "Findekáno. You're--beautiful." He whimpered softly.

Fingon leaned forward, bracing himself on his hands and bending to kiss his husband. “So good,” he whispered against Maedhros’ lips. “You complete me. Being joined to you… it feels like coming home.” He shifted to one hand and reached out to squeeze Maedhros’ fingers. “Touch me?” he pleaded. “My back or my hair, my sides… anywhere you want. I love having your hands on me, Russ. Want to feel you everywhere.”

Maedhros gulped, hands moving sluggishly to hold Fingon's sides as he rode him gently. "You feel--soft, and warm. And kind." Maedhros blinked up at him, and smiled a bit stupidly. "Love you, Finno."

"Love you, too." Fingon captured his husband's lips again and kissed him languidly and thoroughly. He moved one hand to Maedhros' hair, gently untangling fallen strands and he moved above Maedhros. Their motions were slow and soft. It was a pleasant joining, and almost seemed lazy for its unhurried pace and the gentle touches which filled it. It was beautiful and lovely and had Fingon biting his lip, eyes rolling back from the pleasure of it. Before long, however, his eyes would be drawn back to Maedhros spread before him like an offering and still holding him, guarding him and guiding him as he rocked above Maedhros.

It was beautiful. It was comfortable. Fingon was gentle and it felt good and unhurried.

I can't guard you from down here, Maedhros realized with a jerk. Please let me up, Fin.

Fingon guided him up so that Maedhros was sitting, his husband still seated over his middle. "Nothing can hurt us here," Fingon whispered. "We're safe." He embraced Maedhros tightly, pressing then together. But whatever you need to do, whatever will make you feel better, I am yours.

Maedhros hugged Fingon close, hands exploring his back and backside, and kissed his lips and cheeks and shoulders and throat tenderly, but as if he could not have enough. How could I feel better than I feel right now? he wondered softly, breathing in his scent. I love thee. His hips thrust shallowly, the only movement available to him. This. Just this. Always this. I love thee. Mine as I am thine.

"As I am thine so thou art mine," Fingon whispered, continuing to press kisses to his husband's face and hair. "S'good. Just like this. I can-" his breath hitched as he rose high enough Maedhros almost slipped out before sinking back down. "I can feel every inch of you," he breathed. "And the warm grass and the breeze and I think I can _feel_ the light of the stars on my back." He shivered, squirming against Maedhros happily.

Maedhros huffed and grinned, kissing where Fingon's mouth turned up in a grin, where his cheek dimpled. "You feel perfect. I feel like I might go on like this forever, just loving you like this, gently. Don't want to let you go. Don't want to finish. Love you. I love you so much." He tangled his fingers in Fingon's loose hair, feeling it slip over his hands like silk.

Fingon moaned quietly and tilted his head back, relishing the caress of Maedhros' hands through his hair. "Careful, or we might never stop," he murmured. He swiveled his hips as he moved forward again, bringing their lips together. "Love this. And your words- you'll never have to let me go. I promise I'll be there for you, and in need I will turn to you." His grin matched his cousin's as they pulled back far enough to watch each other. "Russss," he sighed happily.

"Oh, Findekáno," he sighed, pressing their brows together as their fear merged with their bodies. "Would you--would you let me try something?" Maedhros asked, breathless with his desire, showing Fingon an image of them so joined, while Maedhros stood, holding Fingon in his arms, impaled on his cock and supported by his arms under his thighs. "I don't know what we'd do when we got there," he admitted with a sheepish laugh.

"I'd like to try." Fingon held Maedhros tightly and giggled. "Perhaps?" He sent Maedhros an image of them standing as his husband had envisioned, but with Maedhros shifting to hold his calves and still allow Fingon to lift slightly and ride him. "I'm not sure if it would work... But I'd like to try." He took a deep breath and kissed Maedhros, trembling both from the idea and from what they were currently doing.

"Yes. Yes, if you could move--" Maedhros groaned at just the thought of it, and, "hold onto me," he said, shifting until his legs were beneath him, and slowly, awkwardly, got to his feet. He was so far inside Findekáno he wasn't sure when he was going to come out the other side, and he moaned audibly. "All right?" he checked, breathing heavily.

Fingon buried his head in Maedhros' neck and whimpered. He thought he had been sinking down on Maedhros before but now, with his legs squeezing his husband's waist and his husband's arousal within him taking his weight fully he could barely think. "Can't-" he shook his head without looking up and tugged at Maedhros' hair. Can't move like this. He shifted, wrapping his legs fully around Maedhros and used his arms around Maedhros' shoulders to help lift himself before dropping back down with a deep moan. "My rear, Russ. Can you, can you stay balanced if you hold me there and help lift?" He pulled his head back an inch and shifted, groaning, to a position that allowed him to kiss his husband.

"Here, here, I've got you, I've got you," Maedhros said, a rush of panic at Fingon's pain giving him the strength to lift him easily with his arms after shifting his grip. He slid him halfway off, and held him there, limbs trembling with the effort. "Bad? Should I put you down?"

Shaking his head quickly, Fingon squeezed his arms around Maedhros' neck. "No—no! Just--it's intense." He urged Maedhros to lower him so that he was more fully penetrated. "It's good. I like-- like it." He could barely think to breathe and was dizzy with the sudden change in position. "Please- please keep going? Help me keep going? Is this-- I can feel you so deep, Russ. Can you feel that? Is it—this--good for you?"

Maedhros nodded, breath coming in harsh pants, lifting Fingon off him slowly, and lowering him even more slowly. "Good?" he asked, pressing a sloppy, needy kiss to Fingon's neck. "Love you so much. You feel so good like this."

Fingon clenched around him unconsciously, shivering. "So good. Strong. Please- faster? I'll help." Fingon growled as he was dropped down and bit down on the junction of Maedhros' neck and shoulder. More. More beloved, please. It was delicious and amazing and something Maedhros wanted. Fingon wanted to do this forever, though he would even be pleased if they tumbled to the ground, so long as they remained together, striving towards completion.

"Faster," Maedhros gasped, "we can do faster. Dig your knees into my hips just--ooh--" he huffed as that tightened Fingon around him deliciously. "All right. Together?" he gasped, bouncing Fingon in his arms.

"Yes. Yes, like this." They increased the speed of Fingon's movements slowly, until he was sweating again, straining to rise and drop down while Maedhros held him and assisted his movements. "Together. Always. Getting close," Fingon admitted, tossing his head to force his mussed hair from his face.

Me, too, Maedhros growled, not wanting to waste his breath with words. Love you. Bite me again? And let's find your--he shifted Fingon in his arms, and his sudden loud cry told Maedhros he'd found the spot that made him see stars. Good. Love you. So beautiful. Could never be tired of carrying you. Love you. Come for me?

Mhmm. "Russss! Yes, please. Hard. RussRussRussRuss-" His moaned loudly and leaned down, biting into Maedhros neck with a muffled shout. Maedhros was everywhere- above him and around him and in him, the only thing holding him up. He spent with a scream, clinging to Maedhros mindlessly as he shook and shuddered above him. Good perfect bright so much _Russ_!

Maedhros followed on the heels of Fingon's orgasm, as he pumped him throughout, grunting in a manner he was sure was not attractive, but Fingon didn't seem to mind. "Oh, Eru," he sighed once he returned to himself and realized he was on his knees in the grass with Fingon still clinging to him. "Oh, Findekáno. Oh," he moaned, hands traversing his back, loving him, needing everything about him.

"Maitimo Russandol," Fingon whispered roughly. He slumped against Maedhros, absurdly grateful for his husband's arms around him. When he caught his breath he looked up and grinned dazedly at Maedhros. "Do you want to know something funny? That was… unbelievably incredible, Russ. Thank you for suggesting that," he added with a hug. "But you know what is just as incredible and pleases me just as much?" He paused, just breathing and watching his husband. "The smile on your face right now. The way your eyes are shining. Both are unspeakably beautiful and I fear I cannot do them justice with words. Seeing you like this makes me feel like I could fly."

Maedhros huffed, and smiled brighter, though he also blushed self-consciously. "And you. Seeing the happiness in your eyes warms my very fëa. Thank you. Thank you for pleasing me, and for letting me please you. Thank you for being." He hugged him close, and then separated them carefully. "Are you sure I did not hurt you?" he asked, brow creasing slightly.

Fingon's eyes slipped shut as he cataloged his feelings. "I'm… very, very stretched. And I'll be sore. I'm—ah-- tired." He leaned against Maedhros heavily, resting his brow on his cousin's. "I'm happy. I'm very happy. And I feel good- sated, blissful, and happier still for knowing you are pleased and sated and giving me that perfect smile." He lifted one hand and touched the corner of his husband's mouth reverently. "That was a brilliant idea, arimeldanya. We'll have to do that again." He winced slightly as he shifted. "Just, not right away. Between now and earlier… I may not be moving around too much tonight. Though we'll still be able to play chess and go! And make fondue and bathe, so it shouldn't impact our evening plans much."

Maedhros' smile was coupled by frowning eyes this time, but he kissed Fingon gingerly. "I shall care for you as much as I am able," he said. "In a moment, when I can stand, will you let me carry you inside? And there I should like to clean you, and get a look to make sure I did not damage you at all." He rubbed Fingon's back and legs with gentle, steady hands.

Fingon nodded, head slipping to rest on Maedhros' shoulder. "If you will, please carry me," he whispered. "And… maybe we can warm a couple of heating pads? And if you'd like we could sit on the couch by the fire and play or… perhaps you could read to me a little this time?" He pressed a kiss to Maedhros' shoulder and slumped further, letting his husband take his weight and hold him upright. Maedhros hands continued to sooth him with slow, relaxing movements. "Love you," Fingon whispered, eyes closing.

Nodding, kissing him, murmuring, "Sorry," he lifted Fingon with a slight groan and carried him inside. He brought Fingon to the kitchen and laid him on a table on his back and set some water on to boil. "Lie still, love," he whispered, and bent down to get a good look at him. There didn't seem to be any damage, but he wanted to wash him first. "Let me get a salve for you. Don't move."

Laying back, Fingon waited patiently. He could hear the water starting to bubble and he closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the kitchen and to Maedhros movements. “I’m not hurt, Russ. Just… tired out and relaxed and sore. Everything was wonderful. Thank you for a lovely walk and picnic, and for some rather adventurous exercise.”

Maedhros smiled and kissed Fingon and took the water off to cool. "I just like to worry about you, all right?" he whispered. He washed Fingon thoroughly with warm water and applied the salve before helping him into some soft breeches. He then carried Fingon to the couch and wrapped him in a light blanket (it was still bright out and he left the door and windows open) before returning with a tall glass of water. "Are you hungry at all?" he asked as he slid a table over for their games. "Can I get you anything?" he wondered as he gathered up their abandoned clothes.

“I’m not hungry yet. This is perfect.” Fingon sipped at the water as Maedhros cleaned up the area and began setting up to play a game. “You’ll forgive me if I doze off while we’re playing or reading, won’t you? I’m very comfortable, and I’ll be better once you’re beside me.”

Maedhros smiled. "All right," he said, but he brought some fruit over anyway. "Please. Sleep as much as you want or need." He sat next to Fingon and was just putting an arm around him when, "Oh! Hot water bottle!" he said and sprung up again.

Fingon nodded, picking up an orange despite his words and beginning to peel it. “Thanks,” he said softly as he took the bottle from Maedhros. He wrapped himself in a large, soft blanket and curled up next to his cousin. “Do you want a piece?” he offered, holding up the fruit.

"Mm," Maedhros said, opening his mouth, and licking Fingon's fingers when he fed him some fruit. "We're playing Go first then? You know I'm not good at this game," he grinned. "I'm afraid to make any wager here--except that you might fall asleep," he teased as Fingon yawned. "Should I read to you instead? You could lie down that way."

“Let’s at least start the game… and then I’d love it if you would read.” Fingon relaxed against his cousin. “May I use you as a pillow when I do lay down?” he asked. He brought one hand up to his mouth as he yawned again.

"I would be insulted if you didn't," Maedhros said, setting his piece on the board first.

“Are you sure you want to move there?” Fingon teased. He stuck his tongue out when Maedhros shot him a look, and moved a black piece onto the board, beginning to stake out territory on the opposing side.

"I told you, these defensive games are rubbish. I much prefer chess." He slowly wrapped himself around Fingon the more they played, until Fingon was bundled up in his arms and on his lap, and really flagging. "All right. I declare you winner." He slid the table out of reach and grabbed a random book from behind him. "Horticulture. Ah. Just the thing to put you to sleep."

"I like hort'culture," Fingon mumbled. "Sometimes." He yawned, blinking up at Maedhros. "Remember when I was little and you used to take me around the gardens and teach me about the herbs growing there and how to know a tree by its leaves or bark?" The corners of his lips twitched upward before he raised a hand to cover another yawn. "I loved that."

Maedhros laughed softly and kissed his head. "I wouldn't trust anything I ever said in a garden. I hope I did not lead you amiss, or that my amil corrected you, our yours did. Ah, fruit trees," he said, and began to read.

Half asleep and lulled by Maedhros' voice, Fingon's thoughts drifted. He settled close, tucking his legs in, and enjoyed the thrum of satisfaction moving back and forth along their bond. His eyes closed the rest of the way as Maedhros continued to read.

When he was certain Fingon was asleep, Maedhros put the book down behind him and wrapped his arms more fully around him. "Love you," he whispered, and closed his eyes, and hummed a few bars of their song, and himself dozed, with Fingon breathing softly in his arms.


	10. Chapter 10

An hour later Fingon stirred. He stretched slightly, though he was loath to leave the warmth of the blanket and Maedhros' arms. Making a decision he braced himself before slipping off the couch long enough to restart the fire before scampering off the cold floor and back onto the couch. He kissed Maedhros softly and snuggled close, toes burrowing into the end of the couch between the cushion and armrest.

Maedhros opened one eye at Fingon's departure, and both eyes at his return. "Cold, are we?" he asked, kissing Fingon's nose.

"Little bit," Fingon admitted. "You're nice and warm though." He brought his legs up, shoving his cold feet against his husband's calves to warm them with a grin. "Nice," he moaned. "You feel so good Russ!"

Maedhros hissed and laughed. "Your feet are cold!" he cried, flipping them over so that Fingon was beneath him. "Better?"

"Mhmm." The couch was warm where Maedhros had been dozing and his cousin was comfortable settled atop him. "Thanks, Russ." He ran his hands through Maedhros' hair lazily as they enjoyed the fire and each other's company.

"Thank _you_ ," Maedhros said, proceeding to press soft kisses across his face and neck. "You are so wonderful to sleep with. I don't know how I ever slept soundly without you." He yelped as Fingon's feet sought him out again. "We _will_ have to invest in some socks for you, I think."

Fingon giggled, but kept his feet pressed to Maedhros. "I warned you that you were stuck with me," he said in mock seriousness. "Now you begin to see how horrible a ner I am to live with. You're just so _warm_ and comfy and safe- and I'm so cold and sore and worn out." He tilted his head and offered his lips for a kiss. "Tyë melin, Maitimo. Thank you for putting up with me. And I'm happy to hear I'm wonderful to sleep with in spite of my cold fingers and toes."

Maedhros giggled and wriggled, pressing Fingon's chilled limbs close. "I shall make it my lifelong goal to ensure that your fingers and toes are never cold," he said, kissing Fingon tenderly. He laughed at the mental image of Fingon in bed next to him, nude except for socks and mittens, and he couldn't decide if the thought was arousing or simply adorable.

"Really?" Fingon snorted at the image and kissed the tip of Maedhros' nose. "My hero," he whispered. "And however shall I repay you for such tender care?"

"You presume I would need any?" he asked. "You assume holding you is not its own reward?" He pressed their cheeks together and nibbled on his ear, huffing his breath warm on Fingon's neck as he squeezed him close.

Fingon tightened his hold on Maedhros in return. "Sorry. Of course," he whispered. "Just being near you does my own heart ease." He pulled the blanket closer around them. "How are you feeling? After holding both of us up and-" Fingon broke off with a pleasant shiver.

"I feel amazing. A bit tired. My arms might complain tomorrow," he laughed. "But right now I feel on the top of the world--like I feel on our peak, overlooking our valley. Are you hungry? Would you mind if I got up to begin supper?"

"You have to let me help. I always help with fondue!" Fingon grinned up at him. "I'm not super hungry, but I won't refuse a wonderful dinner with you. And I can bring in more wood for the fire." He shrugged. "After dinner shall we play a little chess?"

"Oh. We can wait then, and play chess first if you prefer. Of course you shall help, but I won't have you fetching firewood," Maedhros said, cuddling him. "Or we can just hold each other until you are hungry."

"Either one sounds good," Fingon admitted. He brushed Maedhros' hair to the side and began rubbing his hands over his husband's back. "I suppose in the end it's up to you since you're on top of me," he added, sticking his tongue out. "Just being with you pleases me greatly. But at some point tonight we should play a game you're good at." He nudged Maedhros playfully, referencing Maedhros' strategic issues with go.

"Oh I rearranged the Go board while you were sleeping," he told Fingon, biting his nose. "If you're not cheating, you're not trying, after all." He grinned wolfishly, and sucked Fingon's tongue into his mouth. "I could just kiss you all night for my dinner."

"I wouldn't complain about that. You would spoil me terribly, though." He scratched down Maedhros' back for a moment. "Feels good like this, with your weight on me. I'm trying to decide what I like more, lying on top of you or having your weight pressing me into the couch or bed and keeping me warm."

Maedhros hummed happily. "Allow me to try to sway your opinion," he said, voice low, kissing Fingon and grinding against him. "I like to have you wriggling beneath me, needing and pleased, and I'm holding you so tight."

Fingon moaned. "I love thee. And I _always_ need thee." He leaned up and caught Maedhros' lips before falling back happily. "I'm not sure how much I can move, beloved. But, whatever I can do, I love thee, and I would like to please thee and to have you please me." He squirmed slightly and arched, pressing himself against his husband's solid form.

"You don't need to move. Not yet. Just let me tease you until you can't help but move," Meadhros whispered, kissing and nipping at him. He brought his knees together and pinned Fingon's legs closed between him and just pressed, rolling his hips against him and kissed him and stroked his hair.

"Alright. As you- as you wish." Fingon nodded gratefully, shuddering as Maedhros moved over him. "Thank you. Feels… feels good. And warm and safe and nice." It was pleasant and comforting to be pinned against the soft couch and to let Maedhros decide how to move them and what to do.

"You feel good. So warm and soft and smooth. I just want to squeeze you," Maedhros continued, kissing him all over, and hands wandering. "Want to love you slowly and gently. Want to tease you and kiss you for hours until you're mad with need. Want to cuddle you until you forget how hard you are, and then reawaken your desire until you're starving for more." He kissed him until they were both breathless.

“How do you always know what to say?” Fingon breathed, holding his husband tightly. “How do you always find the words that will most move me, the actions that will most touch me?” They kissed again, slower this time but just as deeply and thoroughly as before. “I want to make love with you slowly, Russ,” he whispered finally. “Want you to play me like an instrument, to mold me like a material in your forge. Please, beloved, I’d like what you said.”

"Want you to know nothing but my love," Maedhros breathed, "and I would consider you wholly mine--and I, entirely dedicated to you." They were silent for some time, but for the sound of breath and shifting blankets, as Maedhros embraced and rubbed and rocked Fingon beneath him, and left gentle marks on his neck and nibbled his ears, and many a "Love you, need you," was gasped between them, until he could feel Fingon's hardness rising like a tent in the blankets. He ignored it, in favor of kissing him and massaging his fëa, and slipping his hands between Fingon and the couch to caress his bare back and rump. "Beautiful. Soft. Warm. Mine. Show me your neck," he begged, and when Fingon did, he licked a strip from the hollow of his throat to his chin, and plunged his tongue into Fingon's gasping mouth.

Fingon was simultaneously floating and gentled, grounded by Maedhros' hröa and fëa. It was like the times he had gone swimming in the sea near Alqualonde and drifted, floating freely with no effort on his own part but guided and caressed by the currents and the winds. He moved into his husband's kisses and touches, returning the favor as much as his husband would allow. It resulted in a burning desire that slowly built between them until Fingon, too relaxed to move or even beg, could barely offer his lips, his neck, his hröa while panting and gasping. The only word he had left was Maedhros' name, and he used it often. It was a plea and a sound of thanks, a word that had to be thought if not spoken because, when he remembered nothing else, Fingon yet knew that that word, to him, meant everything.

Overwhelmed by Fingon's love and trust, Maedhros felt his heart swell. "Will you be all right if I take care of this?" Maedhros asked, palming at Fingon's groin. "Not going to float away without me?" He grinned and kissed Fingon and scooted back so he could come up through the bottom of Fingon's blanket, but he took care to watch and listen to Fingon's desires over his plans.

“Russ,” Fingon moaned softly. He trembled, trying to nod in response to what Maedhros was asking. Anything, please, Russ, he thought with a sob. He grabbed his husband’s hand tightly, biting his lip as his head fell back. “Russandol,” he whispered.

"Easy, easy, my darling, I got you," he whispered, squeezing Fingon's hand, voice muffled as it came from beneath the blanket. Fingon needed no encouragement to hardness so Maedhros took him in his mouth directly. Going to make you feel so good, he promised.

Fingon's breath hitched several times before he could make a sound. "Russsss," he sighed with a long exhale. The hand in his cousin's tightened while his free hand slipped under the blanket to caress Maedhros' hair. "Maitimo," he whispered. His head tilted back further, baring his throat as he stared at the ceiling with unseeing eyes.

Maedhros pried Fingon's knees apart and swallowed him whole. Such a good boy, good Finno, I love you so much. So beautiful, so tasty, so comfortable and comforting. Thank you. Just lie still and enjoy this. Tell me what you want.

"Russ," he pleaded softly. You this everything anything, Russ, my Russandol, my husband, my light. This, more, anything you wish so long as I am with you. Russ. Please, beloved. Fingon could barely put a thought together and even the words he founds were, he feared, nowhere near enough. But Maedhros was above him and around him and hot, wet, good, which left Fingon less than coherent. Didn't his husband know how he was playing Fingon? How greatly he effected him? And on a day when they had already- Fingon shivered as he recalled their morning encounters and clung to Maedhros' hand desperately.

You're going to be good and beautiful for me just like before, aren't you? He hummed around Fingon's sex and stroked him lovingly. Love to feel you happy, he promised. Fingon's pleasure thrummed in his breast more beautifully than anything he had ever felt. He could live on it. Want to taste your happiness.

"Russ. Yes." Fingon breathed the words, trying to think as his fingers tangled in Maedhros' hair. Love you, vennonya. So kind. Melmenya, please. He was relaxed and comfortable, but his hips shifted upward slightly, wanting to rise, to press into Maedhros or to pull his husband down though he did neither. He wanted Maedhros to control this, to control him, and to let things continue at his own pace as he had envisioned earlier.

Would you have me have you wait? Maedhros asked wryly. Should I rest atop you with your hard cock snug between my legs, my weight heavy on you so you cannot move or relieve yourself? I would sing and gentle you into a doze, and wake you up by licking you again? Or should I make you spend for my pleasure both times, that I may hold you weak and boneless with pleasure, and kiss you and tease you?

Fingon made a choked sound. His hips pressed upward again, straining for release that his husband had not yet granted. "Russ… ah… I.. you can't ask me that now!" Fingon forced the words out quickly, shaking from head to foot. "I wanted… what you wanted… said… earlier." He whined and twisted the hand in Maedhros hair before letting go and returning to cupping his husband's head and petting gently. "Please?" Please vennonya, Russ, my one and only.

"What's that? Too much for you, darling?" Maedhros pulled off his sex and crawled up his body, covering him with his weight and warmth and plastering him to the side of the couch. "You sound a bit too excited and need a moment to just relax. I must take good care of my Finno and keep him relaxed and comfortable and happy," he said, wrapping legs and arms around Fingon's body and a fist around his cock. "Hold still, let me love you," he whispered, kissing him gently and lovingly.

Fingon’s legs jerked and he bit his lip, blinking rapidly to try to clear his eyes. “Mean,” he whispered. Fingon slid his arms around Maedhros’ back and held him close. “I can take it.” Anything for you, Russ. Feels… can barely move… I am yours entirely vennonya.

"Not mean," Maedhros protested, with a teasing grin. "It would be mean if I didn't keep my promise. I said I would cuddle you and kiss you and love you. My goal is not so base as your seed. It is higher, for I want your love and your trust. Going to keep you happy like this for as long as I can." Here nuzzled Fingon's cheek and kissed him gently.

Whining, Fingon pressed their lips together. He focused on breathing deeply, relaxing and stilling his limbs. He needed, desperately, and his arousal twitched plaintively. But he wanted to let Maedhros play with his hröa, and to enjoy what his husband was giving him. "It's good," he whispered. "Hard, but good." He snorted at Maedhros' smile. "Not like that. Well, like that, but… love you, Russ. Thank you for taking care of me."

"Is it hard to let me take care of you?" he asked. "To let me hold you and love you? To hold onto your lust and let me cuddle you?" He kissed Fingon's face softly. "And here I thought I was the lusty one," he teased. "Close your eyes."

His husband obeyed, eyes slipping closed. Every sensation was heightened, weighted down as he was, and Fingon could feel the brush of hair as Maedhros moved his head, the small huffs of breath as Maedhros leaned close to him. "It's good," Fingon assured. "It's… very nice. I like you holding me, loving me." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Please don't stop."

"You might be begging me to stop by the end," Maedhros whispered, kissing his neck and nibbling his ear. When he was sure Fingon wasn't going to go off without warning, he moved both his arms behind Fingon and rubbed his back to relax him further. "Are you comfortable, love? Where would you like me to touch you or kiss you? Could I rub your feet? Or brush your hair?"

"I… um… anything? Would you kiss me again?" Fingon spoke haltingly, but he pressed back against Maedhros' hands with a pleased groan. "My feet first, perhaps? If you're willing?"

Maedhros kissed Fingon, and then bundled him up into a little ball so he could fit on his lap, and with one hand rubbed first one foot, then the other, still kissing his face and hair.

"Feels good," Fingon whispered. He was still slightly aroused but no longer as desperate, and he curled up against his cousin enjoying the touched to his feet and head. "'s a good way to spend the afternoon." He bit back a yawn as Maedhros continued to work.

"I agree. You just relax. Are you still hurting anywhere from before?" he asked, lips ghosting over his brow as he continued to rub his feet and back.

"Not hurting." Fingon shook his head lightly. ''My back and arms are a little tight, but this is… really nice."

"Okay, let's try this," Maedhros said, after making sure Fingon's feet were well massaged, and pulled Fingon forward against him, so that they lay chest to chest and Maedhros could rub his back and arms and still feel how hard he still was. "How's that?"

Fingon ground forward slightly with a huff of laughter. "How do you think?" He smiled at Maedhros beautifully and offered his lips for a kiss. I need, vennonya. But this is good. This is-- are you enjoying this? You're working me to distraction- you can… you can look if you want. If I can't think to answer. If you just want to know, to feel.

I can already feel you, Maedhros assured him. And you feel good. You know I'll take care of you even if I do drive you to distraction first? He grinned and focused on relieving Fingon's knotted muscles, though he would rather have rutted against him until they both spilled over each other--and he shared this hint of a wish with Fingon.

"Russ!" Fingon squeaked, unconsciously grinding against Maedhros at the thought.His head fall back, baring his neck, and he made a picture of perfect wanton submission. RussRussRuss. How can you _do_ that to me? Vennonya you are… you torment me arimeldanya. He let out a low groan as Maedhros' hands found a particularly tight knot in his back and shook his head, unable to determine which sensations to focus on.

"Shh, baby," Maedhros said. "So good, being so good and beautiful for me," he whispered, one hand continuing to work out the knot while the other held the back of his neck. "Can you hold on to me, love?" Maedhros asked. "Want your hand on my side. Can you hold onto me?"

A hand moved down to clutch at Maedhros' side desperately while Fingon's other palm splayed across his husband's back. "Good, for you," he whispered softly in agreement. "Want to be." He stroked Maedhros' side for a moment to get his attention. "Will you kiss me, arimelda? Please?"

Maedhros answered with a kiss, speaking his words across their bond, which was wide open and sparkling: Yes, you are so good. So perfect, so mine. Love you. So proud of you. Want to spoil you rotten, my beautiful one. Going to give you what you need.

Thank you. Love you. So wonderful to me. Fingon offered his throat when their kiss ended. "Are you… is it almost… can you tell me how you feel right now? With me in your arms, at your mercy?" Do you feel as complete caring for me as I feel in your arms? His hand tightened on Maedhros' side.

"How else do you think I have held on all this time?" Maedhros asked. "You are hardly at my mercy. You're giving your care to me voluntarily. And that is all the more beautiful." He kissed Fingon's throat and also sucked a bruise there. "I love you so much. And, yes," he added after a dramatic pause. "It is almost time."

Fingon shivered at the last words, clinging to Maedhros. "Yes. Please." He clung to Maedhros' side and to his back, unable to prevent his hips for thrusting lightly against him. "And yes. I am yours willingly. Always." Love this. Thank you I- like when you take care of me. He laughed softly. "You've always taken care of me."

"If I cannot take care of you, I have no other purpose," Maedhros said, again gently flipping them so that he was on top, and the blankets now so thoroughly tangled around them that they might never come apart. "You are my life's purpose. As long as I am myself I will never falter from this. I love thee and will serve thee tenn' ambar-metta. And now I will serve thee and thou will serve me." Kissing Fingon a final time Maedhros wiggled down the blanket to take Fingon's sex in his mouth. He did not tease but brought him to completion quickly. Come for me, he said.

"Vennonya," Fingon whispered softly, awed by Maedhros' words. Then he could do naught but obey, and he thrust upward, hands slipping down to grasp and Maedhros' hair. "Russ!" Please yes good now Russ, Russ! His legs locked and he threw his head back, finishing with a loud moan. He reveled in the pleasure of the moment until he was trembling too greatly and his body relaxed except for his arms, which remained draped over his husband. He hummed in pleasure, loving the feeling of Maedhros pressed against his feet and legs, arms holding his waist. They were held tightly together by the blankets, and he could feel his husband's every breath against his skin.

Maedhros wiped his mouth and made his way back up to hold Fingon entirely, kissing his face until their heartbeats realigned. "All right?" he asked. "I need to start dinner."

"Wait," Fingon said breathlessly, clutching Maedhros to him. "You, I mean, may I- we did not take care of you. And I… I saw what you wanted before, when you shared it. Please may I please you first?" He looked up at Maedhros, one hand skating down to tease at his husband's arousal. "My rear or my mouth or my hand, but please, I wish to bring you release as well."

Maedhros beamed. "I thought you were going to fall asleep," he said. "Your mouth, please. I don't want to hurt you." He crawled up Fingon's body, squirming free of the blankets. "Then fondue."

Fingon relaxed and allowed Maedhros to rearrange them. A large part of him wanted Maedhros within him again though his logical side was aware he was still overused and burning slightly and that being taken again at the moment was not the best idea. Fingon nodded. "I still might fall asleep. But I want to help with fondue. Like the first time we made it together." He looked up at his husband. "Want you," he whispered.

"I want you however you want me," Maedhros said, kissing the top of his head. "I'd be glad to have your help."

"Good. I'm very glad." Fingon tilted his head up to kiss his husband. "Do you want to lie down? Or will you have me just like this?"

"Findekáno, I could finish just by saying your name right now," he teased. "How do you want me?"

A thousand scenarios flew through Maedhros mind. He wanted his husband _every_ way. But for the moment he would be happy being able to worship Maedhros' hröa. "Maybe, if we just flip over?" They squirmed for a moment until Maedhros wound up in the warm indention where Fingon had been with Fingon settled comfortably atop him. "I don't know that either of us have the patience for me to care for you so thoroughly as you did me- if you aren't opposed, I would very much like to have you in my mouth right now." Fingon smiled and pressed their lips together again, framing Maedhros face gently. Then he scooted down pulling the tangled blanket down with him until he was level with Maedhros' waist. "May I?"

"Please," Maedhros said, heart fluttering with desire, and amazed and flattered as he always felt when Fingon did this for him. "I love you." He brushed his fingers gently through Fingon's hair.

Fingon looked up and their eyes met as he bent over his husband's arousal and swallowed him. Love you, he thought, filled with desire and pleasure though his body could not act on it. Love you so much, Russ. Thank _you_ for letting me do this for you. He was the one who should feel flattered and overly pleased. There was little in life that could bring him as much pleasure as pleasing Maedhros did, be it through sating his desires, massaging his sore muscles, or carrying him to bed when he was exhausted and half incoherent.

"Oh, Fin--ahh--!" he moaned and sighed loudly. He was naturally (or perhaps repressed, like the rest of him) quiet in bed, but he had been practicing voicing his pleasures, because Fingon deserved to know how his love and his touches so methodically unmade him. He felt whole only when he was joined to Fingon. "Oh, yes, yes," he begged, trying not to tug him deeper by his hairs. "Love you. Love you."

Fingon moaned around him and swallowed, probing the bond to feel Maedhros' wave of pleasure as Fingon's throat constricted. Good, he thought. So good. Love you more. Love doing this, Russ. You feel incredible. His hands stroked along Maedhros' sides rhythmically as he moved over him. You can pull, he thought. Or push. Do you want to really grab my hair, Russ? I won't mind.

Maedhros did, and tugged on Fingon's hair as gently as he could manage and held him deeper. "So good," he huffed. "So hot and tight and clever. Ungh," he growled, helping Fingon to move faster. "Close. So close. You're so perfect."

Thank you, Fingon thought as he moaned around his husband. He looked up to meet his eyes again. Thank you for helping, for guiding me. Feels so good. Show me what it feels like for you? May I see how you feel right now?

Maedhros opened himself wide, letting his knees and his mind fall apart, and he howled his pleasure, letting Fingon take him as he would, and a few short seconds were all it took before he spent himself down Fingon's willing throat, groaning and folding up around him.

Fingon lingered, not wanting to separate. He felt warm and secure and Maedhros felt wonderful curling around him. Russ, he thought happily, holding his husband in his mouth as he began to soften. Love this. You feel incredible, taste incredible- I am so happy to be here with you.

"Oh--ohh," Maedhros said, petting his hair lovingly because he looked equal parts erotic and adorable like that. "Love you. I love you so much," he panted, relaxing back, hands still touching his hair. "Thank you. I am happy, too."

Eyes smiling, Fingon began to clean him slowly and thoroughly. "This is nice," he whispered, pulling back to lick at Maedhros. "Love you like this- relaxed and happy and touching me." He kissed his way up Maedhros stomach and chest until he was lying atop him once more and could take his lips in a lingering kiss. "Tyë melin."

"Love you," Maedhros replied, wrapping his arms around him and loving the taste of himself on Fingon's tongue. "Love you, love you, love you. Thank you." He sighed, letting his heart beats and breathing calm as he squeezed Fingon tight. "Okay. Dinner. I have to get up now," he said.

"Wait." Fingon flopped down over him, curling around his husband and clinging. "Not without me. We have to do fondue together, remember?" He looked up at Maedhros. "I'm awake enough."

Maedhros grinned. "Of course. I was just going to go fetch more firewood, so you can relax a bit if you want, and get up when you are able. Or I can carry you to the kitchen now, if you like?" He began bundling Fingon up in the blanket to do so.

Fingon shook his head. "I'll wait until you have the fire going. The couch is nice and warm for the moment. But shouldn't I be getting the wood and carrying you? You should be relaxing, Russ." He leaned up to kiss Maedhros lingeringly, still unwilling to let him go.

"After what we did this afternoon?" Maedhros said, and ruffled his hair. "No, I think I should be taking care of you tonight." He kissed Fingon a final time before rolling them again and depositing Fingon where it was warm, and he got up, groaning at his stiffness.

With a sigh Fingon lay back. His eyes followed his husband until he left the room, and continued to watch the doorway as he waited for Maedhros to return. "My Russ," he whispered. He opened their bond just to send his husband the equivalent of a hug, a soft warm feeling along their connection until Maedhros was back inside.

Maedhros smiled and blushed, feeling entirely warmed. The floor was cold so he put on socks, but was nude except for an (un-sexy, larger) apron. He got the oven going and set about chopping vegetables, meats, and apples, and grating cheese, humming to himself and stealing glances at Fingon.

"Russ!" Fingon whined. He half rolled off the couch and onto his feet, still wrapped fairly tightly in the blanket. He winced lightly as he stood and stretched, and then took small steps as he made his way into the kitchen. "We're supposed to work together. How can I help?" He ducked his head and grinned up at his cousin. "And will you lift me onto the counter, please?"

Maedhros laughed, lifting Fingon first into his arms for a kiss, and then up onto the counter. "Of course. I'm glad to have you." He smiled and touched Fingon's cheek fondly. "I remember when we did this the first time. You were so good about trying something new, and I was so proud of you. You were also terribly cute--as you still are," he said with a grin. "Oh, you're missing a sock," he said, looking about for it and pulling it out of a sofa cushion. "Here you are," and he slipped it back on Fingon's wiggling foot.

"My hero! Thanks, Russ." Fingon tugged on his apron strings until Maedhros was close to him. "You get a kiss for being a valiant hero, right? According to the stories, I mean." He offered his lips, running his fingers through Maedhros hair. I think we both need a bath later- I'll wash your hair if you'll help me with mine.

"Mm," Maedhros said, moaning into the kiss. "What did I do to deserve such a punishment?" he teased, for nothing of course could be further from a punishment than playing with Fingon's hair. "I remember there was a time when you would let no one but me and your mother touch your hair. You _screamed_ when anyone else tried!" he chuckled.

"When they yanked on it it hurt!" Fingon glanced up at him. "Remember how you talked me out of cutting it off?" He played with his hair. "I suppose that's what you did to deserve such a punishment."

Maedhros laughed and kissed Fingon. "Then may I suffer it forever, that no one else has to," he said. "Here, you can cut peppers if you like," he suggested. Broccoli pieces and bread cubes sat in two bowls, and raw meat was already cut into chunks on another board. "I'm getting the broth ready for the meat. _Oh_ and did you see these small stoves? My father made them for camping. This way we can have fondue at the table!"

"It sounds wonderful. Is this part of our wedding gift, or just something father happened to be working on?" Fingon began cutting the peppers are removing the interiors. "Are we going to make a broth again?" he suggested. "I vividly remember eating fondue for the first time. If you hadn't already stolen my heart I think it would have been yours with that meal- fun to make, exciting to eat, and containing green and white veg that hadn't been mutilated by the chef to the point where it was an indiscernible and highly questionable mush." He grinned, humming as he worked. You really were wonderful with me when I was little. Have I thanked you for that? For everything? You explained things in ways I could understand, made learning and working fun, and kept me eager to do more, to do better, and to spend time in your company. You are incredible, Nelyafinwë Maitimo, and I do not only say that as your husband, though I admit a complete bias where you are concerned.

Maedhros blushed. "Well. You were just so cute! And wonderful. I tell you it was easy. And you are still cute, and wonderful--" here he leaned in for a kiss and a smile, "and easy," he added teasingly.

Fingon sputtered and set down the knife, waving a finger at him threateningly. "You'll pay for that later," he warned. He tried to appear serious though he kept intermittently smiling before he managed to school his features again. "I let you take me roughly while pretending I'm… me… then let you stand up with me in your arms and have your fill of me that way, and then while we on the couch… hmm, perhaps I _am_ too easy. Should I start denying you in order to preserve my reputation?" He sighed, shaking his head, and went back to cutting the peppers. "Alas, I haven't it in me to deny you. You are my love, my husband, my one and only. And if that makes me easy I suppose I shall have to live with the title."

"Am I anything else?" Maedhros replied. "It's a good job you didn't find out too young that I would have been please and proud of you whether you ate veg or pudding all day. My brothers know me as hard, and my soft spot is exactly you-shaped." He grinned and kissed Fingon again. "Here, would you like to cut the mushrooms?" he asked, knowing Fingon would. "I've decided to try a more adult version of our fondue, and we'll have three pots: one of a beer broth, one of a white wine broth, and the other, cheese. Well, and chocolate for dessert."

"That sounds fantastic, as always," Fingon said with a smile. "In a little while would you like me to cut some fresh rosemary and parsley from outside?" He finished the last pepper "Done!" and began working on the mushrooms. "Our brothers love you. I don't think anyone could see you as hard, Russ. Well, I see you hard, fairly often these days, but not as a hard person. You love everyone and have a charm and charisma that I've seen no one match except perhaps grandfather." He stole a glance at Maedhros while he worked. "Though I rather like being your soft spot and having you as mine."

Maedhros blushed at Fingon's double entendre, and kissed him shyly. "Everything I pretend to be is undone by you, anyway," he said. "I'll fetch the herbs from the garden. You stay where you are," he warned as he stepped outside, grabbing the shears by the door on the way out.

Fingon smiled softly, relaxing and lying back on the counter. He closed his eyes and thought about Maedhros in his other apron and what they had done on that counter, not far from where he now rested. He thought about the tantalizing glimpses of skin and of Maedhros' shaking form as Fingon stepped back to take their pie out of the oven. Then his mind turned to Maedhros expression after they finished, to cradling his cousin in his arms and carrying him to the couch, kneeling beside him and touching him gently. I love you, he thought, the words as true now as ever. You may have to put up with hearing that at least several times every day for all time, he added across their bond.

And you shall hear it back as many times, Maedhros replied as he stooped to cut some herbs. Do you think it has a range? he asked. I mean, that's sort of silly, but--

He was curious, but he almost didn't want to test it. "A matter for another time," he said, hurrying back inside and within touching distance of Fingon. He dropped the herbs in the broths to season them. "Almost ready?" he asked, running his knuckles absently over Fingon's skin. "I'll get the stoves on."

"Sounds perfect." Fingon slid carefully off the counter. "Shall I set up a low table near the fire where we can eat? Or were you intending to eat in the kitchen or somewhere else?"

"Oh, near the fire would be lovely--but here, now, Fin, leave the heavy lifting to me?" he asked, butting in. "Unless you're _sure_ you're all right? If I don't take care of you I don't get to play with you," he said, wrapping both arms around him.

Fingon paused, leaning against Maedhros and breathing deeply. "Tyë melin," he whispered again. "You take _very_ good care of me. And I'll just bring out the light, wooden table- the small one that isn't at all heavy. And I'll take care of napkins and drinks while you finish the broths." He leaned up to kiss Maedhros quickly. "I'll be back in a minute. You know, I think I'll always enjoy seeing you naked in an apron, but what happened to the other one-- that left more still for the beholder to enjoy?"

"Oh--it's--around," Maedhros said, blushing. "I thought it might start something we weren't prepared to finish, so I am trying for something slightly more modest." He did turn, showing off his naked backside. "Though you see I'm not doing a very good job of it," he laughed, exiting to pull on some trousers. "It's getting chilly, anyway," he said, and brought Fingon's sleeping trousers as well.

"Next time I won't mention it," Fingon grumbled as he obligingly shed his blanket toga and pulled on the trousers. "It is getting a little chilly. Perhaps we should have some hot chocolate with dessert?" He set up the table by the fire and returned to the kitchen to find a red dinner wine and pour two glasses.

"Yes, or--I was thinking tea, but yes." He began setting out the stoves with pans on top, and brought out the dishes one by one and a pitcher of cool spring water. The forks were out, and napkins, cups, and plates. "I think we're ready!" he said, pulling cushions off the couch and tossing them on the floor for them to sit on.

"Tea with dinner or dessert? Sorry- I can make you a tea if you'd prefer," Fingon offered. "I thought wine would go well with fondue." He shrugged, willing to go with whichever drink Maedhros preferred.

"Oh I meant for dessert, sorry. The wine will be perfect. You chose an excellent vintage that will complement the flavors well, I think." He sat, and pulled Fingon to lean against him, and covered them both in a blanket, tangled their legs to his satisfaction, and took up his fork. "I have an timer for the meats," he said, spearing a piece of chicken. "It's boiling nicely, so two minutes should take care of them." He plunged his chicken into the wine broth and flipped the timer over.

"Everything looks delicious! And the broths smell… you are unparalleled in the kitchen, Russ. It will be great!" Fingon took a small sip of the wine. "I think I'll try the chicken too." Fingon quickly added a second piece of chicken into the broth. With his spare hand he poured them each a glass of spring water. "Just in case we don't want to mix flavors," he added, uncertain how the beer broth would pair with red wine. Then again, Turko and Irissë never complained about mixing their beverages at parties.

"Yes, but who is _always_ sick the next day?" Maedhros retorted, catching Fingon's thought and grinning. "But you're right. I might have overreached myself," he laughed. "It wouldn't be the first time. And, while we let the chicken cook," he grabbed the back of Fingon's head and pulled him into a thirsty, lingering kiss. "The perfect appetizer," he said.

Fingon licked into Maedhros mouth hungrily pulling his husband back when they began to separate. Appetizer? he thought. You could be appetizer, dinner and dessert and I would leave full and satisfied!

"Mm!" Maedhros said, glancing at the timer and withdrawing his chicken from the broth, though he could not object to continuing. He wrapped his legs around Fingon's waist and pulled them even closer together, dropping his fork to get both hands on him.

Moaning, Fingon lowered an arm to hold Maedhros thigh around his waist. They continued the kiss until they were forced to part for breath, lips almost brushing as they panted. He managed to hold onto one fork and dip it in the cheese sauce, pulling back and leaning his brow against his husband's. "Here-- may I feed you, melindo?" His arm shook only slightly as he raised the fork to Maedhros' mouth.

Maedhros opened his mouth, chewing thoughtfully, and gave Fingon his chicken after make sure it was fully cooked. "All right?" he asked. "The cheese is a little spicy. If it's too spicy I'll make another batch." He dipped a piece of broccoli into the cheese by hand and held it out to Fingon.

"Am I really that bad?" Fingon sighed. He had been as a child and, he supposed, he still was. "It's good, Russ. Delicous. A little strong, but that just means I won't drown everything with sauce. It's delicious in moderation. Now, which broth was that? And which broth should I put the pepper in, or should I just dip it in the cheese?"

Maedhros waved his hand. "I'm sorry. I like to check because I don't find it very spicy at all, but I don't want it to be something you don't want to eat." He kissed Fingon's cheek and peered at the spread. "I think the pepper would be good in the cheese--or either of the broths! Hmm, let's experiment. I have an idea." He dunked a broccoli into the wine broth for just a few seconds and took it out when it was bright green but still fresh. Once it had cooled and the droplets shaken off, he dipped it into the cheese and the put it in his mouth. "Oh, that's nice!" he said. "Almost a bit much, but good."

“You know me- there’s not much you can add to broccoli that won’t improve it as far as I’m concerned.” Fingon repeated his husband’s actions and tried his own piece. “Not bad,” he said after swallowing. “I normally think a bite of cheese and then a sip of wine, but they go together well. Perhaps a piece of bread next?” Fingon dipped the bread halfway into the cheese and tasted it with a pleased expression. He forked a second piece covering it with more cheese and offering it to Maedhros. “Here, would you like to try it?”

"Mm," Maedhros said, trying to make the biting of food off Fingon's fork look seductive, though he laughed at the end because he felt ridiculous. "Here, let's try a mushroom in beer, shall we?" He stuck two on the end (so he could try it first and make sure it wasn't gross) and dipped them in the bubbling beer for a few seconds before emerging with one for Fingon and one for himself.

“Yum!” Fingon was ready to sing its praises before he even had his bite. He ate the mushroom he was offered slowly, savoring the taste. And, following Maedhros’ example, he thought he would make a show of it at the end, closing his eyes and moaning happily. He opened his eyes and looked directly at his husband. “Perfect,” he groaned.

"Stop that, you're just teasing me now," Maedhros laughed, but it earned Fingon a hug and a kiss, so he didn't think he would ever stop. "All right. A bit of beef next? In the beer?" he asked, dunking a piece and flipping the timer.

“Sounds good. And I’m not teasing,” Fingon protested. “Well, not only teasing. Not when it’s true.” He raised a hand to trace along Maedhros’ cheek, cupping his face and gazing at him fondly. “Perfect,” he whispered and leaned forward to kiss him.

"Mm, always when I'm in the middle of cooking meat!" Maedhros said, pulling back to fish his beef out of the broth. "And no, I don't intend for that to be taken any other way than how I meant it. Come here, you," he said, grabbing Fingon's jaw and hauling him into a teeth-clanking kiss.

Perfect _and_ delicious, Fingon thought. He leaned forward against Maedhros so that they were pressed against one another. “Love you,” he whispered as they pulled apart. His arms wrapped around Maedhros and squeezed him contentedly. “Now, I think I’m going to be _very_ adventurous and try a pepper in beer broth.”

"Ooh," Maedhros said proudly, and squeezed him once more before letting him go to return to his beef.

Fingon dipped it briefly in the broth and then covered half in cheese before taking a bite. He chewed thoughtfully, eyeing Maedhros. "It's good," he admitted after swallowing. "Different, but good." He skewered his own piece of beef and dipped it into the wine sauce before grabbing his wineglass for another drink. "Fondue should be eaten far more regularly than it generally is in Aman. Broth, cheese, chocolate... how can anyone not want this for their meal? Alright, perhaps not for a picnic or if you need a really fast meal, but still. This is as amazing as the first time you introduced me to it."

"It is a bit of a production," Maedhros admitted. "And impossible to have for more than a few people, unless you can somehow gather around large vats or something." Now he tried the pepper in broth. "Oh, it's quite good in the wine broth. Just enough to warm it, not make it soft." He grinned and squeezed Fingon. "Not to turn it into 'mush'."

"True. Even our family would be too large- that and the idea of some of them waving around large forks dripping cheese is frankly terrifying." Fingon leaned against Maedhros for a moment before pulling back. "One moment." He kissed Maedhros and stood, adding a log to have fire and grabbing a sketch pad and pen before he sat. He had another bite of bread dipped in fondue and quickly began a rough sketch. After a minute he turned it to face Maedhros. "What do you think?" he asked, snuggling close. "We could do blown glass pots. We'd need a rack, sitting on a ceramic base, perhaps? Or how hot would a glass rack get? And we put a candle under it. We could line them down uncle's table or grandfather's and only two or four people would share a pot. You'd probably have to make a vat worth of fondue to start, but actually eating it wouldn't be too bad." He could already imagine large, edible table decorations meant to be used in the fondue-- breads and strawberries and sculptures made of peppers and vegetables.

"Oh, that's nice," Maedhros said, laying his hand over Fingon's as he drew and guiding the pencil. "Or a few more of these table stoves. We could have five or so smaller round tables, and each table would have a stove for fondue. Less mingling. But it could work? Umm--oh! Tall tables, no chairs--" he said, changing his drawing. "So you walk over here if you want cheese, and over hear if you want broth. Plenty of ways for people to talk, and start fights..." he added with a grumble.

Fingon leaned against him. "Well, it's always a risk. I think it would be a fun dinner for a party, though." He started cooking his next piece of meat with a grin. "And a fun project, at any rate. I think our house could use a set of party fondue pots and accessories." He felt a warm tingle at the words our house and met Maedhros' eyes happily.

"Our house," Maedhros repeated, liking the sound of that. "Yes, our house. We'll be expected to have everyone over. A housewarming party. Yes!" he cried, mind racing. "A fondue. We'll see how big it is in person, but we could have it in the garden, by the firelight, if we want." He hugged Fingon close.

"That sounds wonderful. Perfect." Fingon leaned in and kissed Maedhros softly. "Are you excited to see it? It looked gorgeous in the drawings." He quickly ate his piece of chicken and set up both fondue forks with mushrooms soaked in beer broth. "And did you want to stay in for the evening or were you planning on stargazing again?"

"I'm _very_ excited to see it!" Maedhros said. "And the bed," he added, nibbling at Fingon's ear instead of focusing on his dinner. "I'll probably start planning our dinner party the moment we arrive. If I don't throw you on the bed first." He laughed. "And no, I don't have any thoughts about tonight. Do you?"

Fingon was shivering at the thought and pressing close to Maedhros as he slowly ate his mushroom. "Not really. Except for spending it with you." He squeezed Maedhros' hand with his fee one, giggling as Maedhros lips and breath tickled the edge of his ear. "Um… I suppose we should have dessert before our bath. I'll take care of dishes if you grab a couple of extra logs for the fire and to set up a fire for later in our bedroom. Perhaps after that we could walk out to find the horses and give our girls a few extra apples and then, depending on how we're feeling, play some chess or start working on dessert?"

Maedhros frowned. "I don't exactly want you walking about more than is necessary," he said. "I'll leave the vegetable and apple leavings by the door for the horses to come for, though. And I'm determined to finish this damned game of go with you," he laughed. "But chess would be fine. Or we could read?"

“Do you want to take turns reading a bit more of Irissë’s epic romance?” Fingon grinned as he managed to skewer two mushrooms, two peppers, and two slices of bread on one fork and dip them into the broth.  “I’m not /completely/ useless,” he added. “Just a little slow and hesitant at the moment. I can at least take care of the dishes- which I notice you didn’t suggest doing instead,” he added with a mischievous grin.

"I only do dishes under duress, or if amil is trying to do them," Maedhros replied imperiously. "Or if my dearest husband asks me to," he said, snuggling him. "But I will never question him if he offers first." He kissed him sloppily. "And I'm sorry I hurt you today. You shouldn't let me--when I get ideas..."

“I _liked_ it,” Fingon said earnestly, shifting to face him. He set down the fork he had been dipping into the cheese sauce and moved to cup Maedhros’ face. “I enjoyed everything we did, Russ. And I wouldn’t change a thing. You’ve been sore after things we’ve done before, but you assured me you didn’t regret anything. That it was still good, still enjoyable, still something you would do again.” He pressed close to Maedhros. “I _should_ let you. You have the best ideas, vennonya.”

Slowly Maedhros' frown turned into a half-grin: but he was still concerned. "I don't want you to be in any pain--ever," he said with a small shrug. "Also this means I can't play with you after," he said, the grin escaping again.

“Sometimes pain can be good. And you can always play with me,” Fingon assured him. He gave him a quick kiss and turned back to his fork, with drying cheese covering the mountain of food. He dunked it once more for good measure and took a large bite, moaning pleasurably as he savored the mix of tastes and textures.

Maedhros laughed. "That is more cheese than anything else," he pointed out, still not entirely convinced.

“That’s part of what makes it so good!” Fingon finished his forkful and took a sip of the wine. He paused, looking at Maedhros who did not seem convinced by his earlier statement. “Maitimo,” he murmured, focusing on their bond and on what he wanted to say and share. “I like you taking me roughly sometimes, riding me like I am your own- because I am, your own. I like you spanking me just as I like reddening you. I like us coming together quickly like we cannot possibly wait another moment and slowly, savoring every gentle touch and press of skin. I like everything we are doing, everything we have done, and all the things we have yet to try.” Don’t you?

Maedhros blinked, and blushed. Was he that obvious? "Yes! Of course!" He hugged Fingon close, feeling the truth in his words. "I'm sorry. Yes, I do. I love everything that we do together. Everything. Because I love you."

“I love you too,” Fingon whispered. “Tenn’ ambar metta.” He leaned up, kissing Maedhros. He chose not to mention Maedhros’ blush knowing he was flushed as well. I love you, he repeated across their bond. “What shall we try next? A mix of beef and peppers, perhaps?”

"Ooh," Maedhros said, allowing himself to be distracted. "Yes! And a mushroom. In the beer."

“Sounds wonderful.” Fingon put together two forks with the same combination, setting them in the broth and flipping over the timer. “Russ?” he asked. “May I, um… if you trust me to take care of your food, could we sit a little closer? If you spread out a little I could press my back to your chest and take care of the fondue,” he suggested.

"Trust you? With my food?" Maedhros kissed Fingon's hair. "I trust you with my life. I might have suggested something similar before if I didn't want to bother you with stuffing my gullet," he laughed, sliding immediately around Fingon, wrapping him in legs and arms and leaning back against the couch with Fingon as his blanket. "Ah. Perfect. Are you comfortable?"

“Perfect.” Fingon smiled. He felt warm inside, pleased and tingling with Maedhros’ words of faith and trust. “I love thee. And I am happy to feed thee.” He cuddled closer and, once he was comfortable, continued to feed them.

The piles of food slowly diminished and, as Fingon drank more of the wine, he was more willing to coat his morsels in the spicy cheese sauce. When they were finished he sighed, resting his head against Maedhros' shoulder. "That was wonderful, Russ," he whispered, eyes closed. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." Together they eventually staggered upright and Fingon began cleaning their plates and dishes, rinsing things and putting them away. He also pulled out berries, shortbread, and anything that looked like it would go particularly well with chocolate. He began to cook some bacon and waited for his husband to return and help with the chocolate sauce, not wanting to accidentally end up with a congealed mass of chocolate that wouldn't melt.

"Oh, Fin!" Maedhros cried, reemerging from the bedroom where he had been building a modest fire. "I have--well--good news, and bad news, and good news," he laughed, holding up a package of food.

“Do I want the bad news first, or the good news? Or the good news?” Fingon set down the tray he was laying out and walked over to Maedhros, looping his arms around his neck. “What is it?”

Maedhros laughed, the joke already prepared as he opened up the cloth sack: "Well, the good news is, I made cookies. The bad news is, that was seven days ago, and they're all broken and a bit stale. The _good_ news is, however, that we can dip them in the chocolate!" he declared, stirring the pot and mixing a bit of oil in.

“You had me worried!” Fingon laughed and shook his head. “Well, a little worried, at least. I’m sure they will still be delicious. Be careful asking my mother about your cookies-- apparently I would hide them and ration them when I was younger. Weeks or months later bits of cookie might still be found in my hiding places.”

Maedhros laughed and eyed Fingon sidelong as he stirred the pot. "Oh, Fin!" he cried, hugging him close. "You are practically perfect in every way. I'll make you a fresh batch when we get to our house. In the meantime, will you make sure the small stove is lit? The chocolate is just about ready."

“Of course. We’ve just the one pot this time, so I was going to set it on the coffee table by the couch. Will that work?” Fingon added a couple of decorative sprigs of mint (though mint dipped in chocolate might be fun to try), and carried the tray out of the kitchen.

Maedhros followed with the hot pot and the bag of cookie crumbs, and they curled onto the sofa, more interested in each other than in dessert.

“Here,” Fingon whispered, finding a perfect strawberry. “Will you lay back and close your eyes for me?” He swirled the berry in chocolate and moved over his husband, dragging the treat up the center of Maedhros’ chest and leaving a trail of molten chocolate. Moving slightly higher, he traced Maedhros’ lips before placing the berry in his mouth. Then Fingon moved back down, tracing the same path with lips and tongue.

"Ohh, mm," Maedhros hummed, smelling and feeling the chocolate, the strawberry, and eventually Fingon's lips. He bit the strawberry, juice running down his cheeks, and opened his mouth for Fingon's lips as he took the stem away. "Fin," he gasped, arms winding around him.

"Russ," Fingon answered softly. His arms came up around his husband as he set aside the strawberry stem and, for a moment, ignored the chocolate and sweets in favor of the toned skin displayed beneath him and trying to ring more beautiful sounds from Maedhros.

"Ahh, ah, Fin," he sighed, squirming under Fingon's touches, his own mind racing as to how he would repay this (what wasn't distracted by the sensations of Fingon's mouth on him).

Fingon reached for another berry, dipping it without moving from atop his husband. He brought it to Maedhros' mouth and quickly followed it, biting into it to steal half. "They're wonderful, aren't they?" He stuck his tongue out to lick at his juice covered lips.

Maedhros moaned rather incoherently, tongue darting out to taste Fingon, and chocolate, and fruit. The stickiness was running into his hair, but he only found it erotic. "Love you," he sighed, hands scrambling for purchase.

 

"Love you most." Fingon smiled and shifted, licking along the trails of juice on Maedhros' face. "You are delectable, vennonya," he murmured. "Russandol with strawberry and chocolate coating- I may have a new favorite dessert. Now, what do you think we should try next?"

Maedhros snuck an eye open, and with a cry of "I think we should try chocolate and Findekáno!" he pounced and reversed their positions. Dipping his finger directly into the chocolate, he painted it on Fingon's lips, telling him to hold still until he plunged into a kiss.

"Russ," whispered, breathless. He arched up against his cousin trying desperately to press skin on skin. Valar. Just chocolate and Russ might be a favorite as well. He lay back, happy to let Maedhros lead them. "I think fondue might turn out to be a wonderful romantic dessert. Do you want chocolate anywhere else on me? Or on you?"

"Yes. Hold still. Let me--" Maedhros growled, and dipped his finger in chocolate again, tracing a stripe of chocolate from his lip to the bottom of his chin. "Want you. Need. You." More chocolate, this time massaging it into one nipple in a thick layer. He did the same with the other. "I want that to dry," he said, and licked the stuff off his chin, pressing a hand firmly on his neck.

Fingon whined and wordlessly begged Maedhros to tighten the hand. He looked up at his husband through half-lidded eyes focusing on the feeling of Maedhros’ skin against him and the warm, quickly cooling chocolate painted over him. “’sgood, Russ,” he slurred happily. A little tighter while we wait? Please?

"Of course it's good," Maedhros said, pressing his thumb a little tighter. The chocolate was hot, but now the dried chocolate coated his finger. He drizzled some chocolate over Fingon's lips, kissing him sloppily without bothering to lick it off.

Fingon moaned and wrapped on leg around his husband, pulling him closer. Feels… oh I think I like this, Russandol. And I’m not even eating yet. He whimpered slightly, tongue flicking out to steal a taste of chocolate from Maedhros’ mouth. Chocolate Russandol. My new favorite flavor.

"Then you'll like this," Maedhros whispered, and stuck his finger in Fingon's mouth. "Suck on this like a good boy," he said, the grip on Fingon's throat tightening a fraction. "Let me see you do what your mouth is so good at."

Lips closing Fingon began to lathe at Maedhros’ finger, sucking off the chocolate coating. His mouth felt swollen and he was dizzy and warm and grounded by Maedhros’ pleasant weight above him. I love thee, he thought, head spinning. Is this good? He bit at his husband’s finger lightly before wrapping his tongue around it.

"Yes, good. You are perfect, my lovely," he hummed, licking chocolate mess off of Fingon's jaw. "I want to cover you in chocolate and stick berries on you and make you wait until they cool and dry, and I'll have to bite you to get them off." He let up the pressure slightly but did not remove his finger. "Would you like that?"

Fingon nodded slightly, shivering and looking up at his husband. Or I can do that to you. Or perhaps I will when you are finished with me. He grinned. So many possibilities, arimeldanya. Would you feed me a berry, please?

It could be arranged, Maedhros replied. He removed his fingers from Fingon's mouth, plucked up a berry from the tray and plunged it in Fingon's mouth with his fingers.

"Mmmm. Thank you," Finn whispered. He savored the berry before swallowing. "Love you," he added. It was a test in patience and determination as he tried to steady himself and let Maedhros guide them. "Relaxing has never been so difficult," he murmured wryly. "What next, my dear?"

Maedhros released his hold on Fingon's neck, instead pressing a thumb into the sticky glob at Fingon's nipple. "Well. We let these dry," he said, dipping a cookie piece into the pot of chocolate and feeding it to Fingon. "I want to decorate your body and lick it off you. Would you let me do that?"

"Mhmmm. Of course. But don't use all the chocolate! I still have plans for you." Fingon grinned and accepted the cookie gratefully. "Your cooking is always delicious Russ. And these aren't that stale." He looked up, glancing at the table. "Do we have some wine left?"

Maedhros glanced over his shoulder briefly. "Yes, there is. May I give you some?"

Fingon nodded. “Please,” he whispered. “Just a taste-- and a kiss, please? Wine and chocolate and Russ… I think I could live off that diet.” He shifted slightly as the chocolate continued to dry on his skin, pulling and stretching it slightly.

Maedhros took the wine goblet and held it to Fingon's lips, helping him to drink. "You're already good enough to eat--I'll see how long I last. It will be like you and baking cookies: you never want to actually wait til they are baked!" He grinned and dipped a raspberry's base in chocolate before sticking it in Fingon's belly button.

“Russ!” Fingon twitched, trying to settle before he cracked the chocolate. “That tickles!” He squirmed slightly, trying to settle. Just wait until it’s my turn, he warned with a grin.

"I don't know if I can wait," Maedhros confessed, drizzling a line of chocolate from neck to navel--and lower. "I want to wrestle with you in a bathtub full of chocolate." He let some cool and spread it over his sex, coating it messily. "Here--wait--" he said, ignoring that in favor of leaning down to swipe the berry from his belly button, licking it out before filling the hollow with wine. "Mm, there." He immediately slurped it out and refilled it.

Fingon’s lips formed an ‘o’ wordlessly as he let out small huffs of air.  “I don’t know if I can wait either,” he whispered, toes curling. “Russ. My Russ.” He lifted his free arm to pet Maedhros’ hair, eyes focused on his cousin as he drank wine from Fingon’s very hröa. “Feels good.”

"Good," Maedhros hummed. "Then so should this," and he fed Fingon's sex down his throat, the taste of Fingon and chocolate exploding on his tongue entirely delightful, and he moaned appreciatively.

With a choked sob Fingon gave in and leaned up, chocolate cracking as his body curled around his husband. “Venno,” he whispered, voice breaking. His hand wound their way into Maedhros hair, staining it with stray bits of chocolate as he sought to bury himself deeper in his cousin’s mouth. Maedhros was warm, wet, and wonderful, the slickness of his mouth changed by the chocolate to something a little thicker but still slick with the oil melted into the fondue. He shuddered and had to stop thinking about it lest he finish there and then. “Valar, Russ. You undo me entirely.”

"Stop, stop," Maedhros said, pulling of and pushing Fingon back to the cushions, a hand on his throat. "Don't move. Going to--want you to--" he panted, but Fingon was so hard already, and he wasn't going to last long, either. He bent to suck on the half-dried chocolate on Fingon's nipples. "Want you to take me," he demanded suddenly. "I want to make you made with lust until you can't but be rough with me. Use me. Would you? Are you there yet?" He stroked Fingon's sex with his hand.

“Oh! Oh, I… ah-“ Fingon bit his lips, hips jerking as he sought to press himself into Maedhros’ hand. “Close. I thought… but, yes. That would. Be good. I’m… close.” He threw his head back, meeting Maedhros’ eyes directly. “Are _you_ ready?”

"Yes," Maedhros breathed. "Want to--be yours. Please. Sorry. Please. Let me serve you." He took a berry in his mouth and used it to kiss Fingon.

They kissed for several minutes before Fingon pushed himself up and his cousin back until they were both sitting. “If you wish to serve me, then will you go and get a spare sheet? I don’t want to ruin the couch with chocolate and this… this is going to get messy.” He grinned, pulling Maedhros close for another kiss before his husband responded. He moaned softly as their arousal brushed against one another, and when they parted Fingon’s head fell to rest on Maedhros’ shoulder. “Venno?” he prompted.

Maedhros gasped, and almost dropped the sheet and the pot of oil. "Oh," he said dumbly, as always awed by Fingon's beauty. He coughed. "I, um--here?"

With a groan Fingon scooted close to the fire, sitting up so that Maedhros could spread the blanket. He watched his husband, beautiful and golden in the firelight, set the oil carefully on the table and prepare their area. “Wonderful, vennonya,” he murmured. “Now, are you ready to lie down for me? Should we grab a pillow for your head?” You’ve already teased me terribly, Russ. Can you feel what you’ve done to me? How much my hröa yearns for you?

"Yes. I can feel it--and I can see it. I n-need you," he mumbled awkwardly, suddenly losing his nerve. "So much. Sorry I--if you're too sore we could--do something else. I mean. I just. I just want to be with you."

“Unless you tell me you don’t want to do this, I have no intention of stopping.” Fingon reached out, touching his husband’s calf. “Please lie down for me?” He shifted so that he was kneeling in front of Maedhros and gazing up at him. “I’m not made of glass, beloved, and I won’t break so easily. If you are willing, I’m far more troubled by this near desperate state you’ve gotten me in than I am by any sore spots or aching muscles.” He smiled a little as he spoke. “Let me have you? Let me move inside you and do my best to please us both?” The statements came out as questions, and he squeezed Maedhros’ leg gently as he spoke, eyes never leaving his husband.

Maedhros sighed, nodding shakily. "Yes. Please, I--I'm sorry. Want you. Want to please you." He dropped to the couch. "How do you want me?"

“Right in front of the fire, lying on your back with your arms by your sides. Can you do that for me, melindo?” Fingon was already reaching for the jar of oil, wetting the tip of his finger and sucking on it, curious about the taste. Please hurry, he added silently.

Maedhros scrambled to obey, lying as ordered in front of the fire. "Can do anything for you. Anything."

“And I for you.” Fingon kissed him, and lifted the pot of chocolate carefully drizzling it down his torso. “Try not to spill anything, alright?” The liquid settled into the defined lines of his torso as Fingon leaned forward to kiss his husband. Then he was moving for the oil, coating his hand quickly and urging Maedhros to spread his legs further. “Ready?” After a nod of agreement he breached him carefully, working a single finger within.

Maedhros drew in a small sharp breath as Fingon's finger breeched him. "Oh," he said, because it felt so nice, he didn't feel any need to move even though the chocolate dribbled, cooling, all over him. "Ohh, Fin," he sighed, spreading his legs further. "Feels so good."

Fingon leaned down, taking Maedhros in his mouth as he added a second finger. I’m glad. You always feel wonderful to me. He hummed lightly scissoring his fingers until he could slide in a third. He pulled back with a pop for breath, watching Maedhros as the fingers within him continued to move. “Are you almost ready, arimelda? I ache for you.”

"Yes, ready," Maedhros groaned, shifting impatiently. "Me, too. Please?"

Drawing back Fingon coated himself with oil and slid forward, hovering over Maedhros before sliding into him. “Russ,” he sighed, eyes closing in pleasure. He held himself slightly above Maedhros, wanting to at least try to lick off the chocolate before giving in and smearing it across both of them. He shifted and slid in another inch and then the rest of the way home. “Good, Russ?” He looked up, trying to read Maedhros expression and make sure he had not hurt him.

Maedhros' features twisted in pleasure and he threw his head back and whined as Fingon took him. "Yes!" he choked. "Yes, more, please--Fin, it feels--you feel--please. Perfect." He cried out as Fingon took him in a particularly hard thrust, but it soon faded into a comfortable stretch.

Fingon caught Maedhros’ lips, biting and tugging gently at the lower one. Then he bent further, lapping at the chocolate along his collarbone and sternum. He worked down as far as he could before letting the feeling of his husband and tight, warm, perfect overtake him. Then he leaned up and, needing to feel Maedhros as much as he could, he pressed them together from hips to shoulder, and diving in for a long, deep kiss. I love you, he thought. I love you so very much.

"Love you--love you--fill me, own me," he begged breathlessly, arms winding around Fingon and smearing chocolate between them. He rocked his hips against him wantonly, and tangled his fingers in his hair.

“Russ. My Russ.” Fingon reached back, tugging Maedhros’ leg up to wrap around his waist. “I love thee. I need thee. I crave thee.” He thrust quickly into his husband, entranced by the play of firelight on his lover’s skin. He reached out a hand and, missing the oil, coated it with melted chocolate. Grinning he reached down and wrapped the hand around Maedhros, beginning to stroke him in time with their thrusts. I want to lick you clean later. “Can you feel?” He threw open their bond, groaning with Maedhros’ physical sensations on top of his own, and with the joy and pleasure their joining brought. “Your fëa is beautiful, Russandol,” he whispered, pounding into him.

"Oh--oh!" Maedhros cried. "Oh, fuck! Findekáno-- _harder_ ," he begged. "Want to feel you in the morning. I can--feel--" and then his fëa opened up, and he was simultaneously feeling and receiving and penetrating and feeling. "Everything. I can feel everything. I love you. With everything I am. I love you. Thann--kuhhh--you--" the next thrust stole his breath and he cried out. "Ai, Fin, I'm going to--"

Fingon winced slightly as a movement pulled on him, but he wanted more, faster, harder. He wanted what his husband wanted and twisted the hand around Maedhros as he increased the speed of his movements. Suddenly, with their combined pleasure and love, he was teetering on the edge. “Yes. Finish for me, Russandol. Come with me. Now!”

Maedhros spent with a cry, painting himself up to his chin in the space between them, and he gasped for breath, somehow now unable to breathe, and his hips jerked and his legs kicked. "Oh, Fin, oh Fin, ohFinohFinnoFinnoFinno," he panted, dizzily, over and over.

“Russ!” Fingon cried out, muscles tightening as he spent within Maedhros. He managed to watch Maedhros through his completion before falling onto his chest, exhausted and wrecked and spent. “Russ. My Russ. What you do to me,” he whispered. When he had caught his breath he pulled back and looked at the mess between them. “Gonna clean you up, Russ,” he murmured. Or try. I think we’ll need a nice shower and a hot bath. But I’ll make a valiant attempt.

"I should--I should be cleaning you," Maedhros gasped. "Y-you'll let me, won't you? Want to serve you. Be yours," he murmured, hands tracing smears of chocolate on Fingon's gleaming, perfectly sculpted, delicious-enough-without-it body.

Fingon nodded before fully thinking it through. His head snapped up. "Soon. Later, but soon. I want to taste you first, venno." He slid down, tasting bits of molten chocolate mixed with Maedhros' seed.  He quickly reached his intended destination and took his husband, just beginning to soften, into his mouth. It was blissful, with Russ chocolate perfect venno running through his mind and across their bond. He lapped at him, cleaning the delicate area before chocolate or seed could harden uncomfortably. Then he rolled onto his back willingly and lay next to the fire for Maedhros to enjoy.

Maedhros moaned softly at the delicious touches he was made to endure as Fingon licked clean his oversensitive body.

Maedhros tried a few times to speak when Fingon lay down beside him, finally managing only: "Will you command it of me?" He wanted to clean him so much it spoiled any potential for a game, but he so _liked_ Fingon's voice when he growled and demanded and controlled—

But already he had begun to feel the request stupid, so he bent himself to lick at one chocolate-hard nipple without waiting.

"You could wait for a response," Fingon groaned. He tugged at Maedhros, holding him close before pulling him back. "I'm hungry." Maedhros looked up at him. "Crawl over and get me something that looks good. Don't use your hands." His husband stared at him blankly for a moment. Fingon smiled. "Now," he added with a growl.

Maedhros' stomach twisted in nervous excitement. "Oh, I--but--yes? Yes," he stammered, nearly backing into the low table. He turned and crawled clumsily (walking like this was just as arousing as it was humiliating) and he took a strawberry gingerly in his teeth by the green part and returned to Fingon with it.

Fingon reached up and wrapped his arms around Maedhros, biting the morsel from his lips. Russ and strawberry-- another perfect combination. Swallowing he tugged Maedhros into a lingering kiss, cleaning the juice that had spilled onto Maedhros' lips and chin. "Another," he said when they broke apart, giving his husband meaningful look.

Maedhros retreated, taking a cookie in his mouth--this time he contemplated dipping it in chocolate, but wasn't sure how he would manage it without his hands, and returned, pressing it against Fingon's lips.

Delicious, Fingon thought. Thank you. He finished he cookie and pulled his husband down until Maedhros was sprawled against him. "How are you feeling, melda? Aside from sticky?"

"So good," he said, smiling easily. "Calm and contented. I could bring you food in this manner all night. Would you like some more?" he asked, wiggling in excitement.

Fingon groaned, body unable to react as he wished, and he swatted at Maedhros' rear. "Stop that! You're hröa is making an invitation neither of us is ready to act upon." He swatted him again for good measure. "And please do-- I would enjoy more food. And you're surely hungry as well." The fondue was delicious, but it was not filling for long. Particularly not as they had been indulging in it, their meal a long tease as much as a chance to eat.

Maedhros exaggerated his whimpers when Fingon struck him, sounding like a beaten dog and looking at him sadly askance, but with a twinkle in his eye, and crawled back to the table. There he took a strawberry in his teeth, tenderly, by the stem, and leaned forward, carefully, to dip it into the chocolate (without burning himself or setting his hair on fire). As it was, he reemerged with a cry and with chocolate on the tip of his nose and his chin, and he tilted his head back so it wouldn't drip on the floor. "Don' laugh a' me!" he said through clenched teeth, still holding onto the strawberry as he returned and presented his offering.

Fingon accepted the strawberry gratefully, sitting up and winding his arms about Maedhros. "I'm sorry," he giggled. "Are you alright, arimelda?" He leaned forward and, with a quick lick, cleaned the chocolate off Maedhros' nose and then his chin. "You are amazing. You are thoughtful and adventurous and brilliant and kind and wonderful. And I love you so." He dragged his fingers through his husband's hair, which is clumped in spots where chocolate had gotten into it. "Are you alright, truly? I only want you yelping when I'm the cause of it." He smacked Maedhros again playfully to illustrate his point.

Maedhros laughed and blushed, nodding demurely. "Sorry I worried you. I was only playing at being offended." He replied to the lick by swiping a bit of chocolate off the side of Fingon's mouth with his tongue. "May I bring you another?"

Moaning softly, Fingon bit at his husband's lip before pressing their mouths together and sucking on Maedhros' tongue. When he pulled back he nodded. "I would very much like that. But first you must choose something and eat it yourself- I want you cared for as well." He stroked Maedhros' hair and back gently. "And after you bring me another bite I want to look you over, Russ- we got, I got, a bit rough at the end. And I don't want you hurting." Hmm. And we'll have a hot bath in a little while. It'll be pleasant for sore and aching muscles, and I always love taking a soak with you.

"You weren't rough. I liked it," he countered, and once released, lost no time in gobbling up a mouthful of raspberries, staining most of his face pink. He returned with a large piece of cookie dipped in chocolate, which he managed this time only getting his nose in, and returned.

Fingon finished the cookie quickly and licked into Maedhros' mouth, sharing the caste of the treat and searching for a hint of raspberry. "This is… this is fun, Russ. Would you enjoy doing this again sometime?" Fingon guided his husband onto his hands and knees, carefully checking his hole for any bleeding. As Maedhros had assured him, his husband appeared to be fine, aside from being chocolate covered and flushed. Fingon grinned and nipped at his cheek. "A vision of beauty, grace and poise," he murmured, eyes roving over Maedhros.

"Must I do something naughty, then, to get what I want from you?" Maedhros teased, letting Fingon know how much he enjoyed Fingon's gentle roughness, and the light spanking he had given him. "I would love to do this again sometime," he said in answer to the question.

Ducking his head Fingon pressed his lips to Maedhros’ back. “Good,” he whispered. “And you don’t _have_ to do something naughty, but you can.” He pulled back. “Are you going to be a bad boy for me?” he questioned, trailing a single finger along Maedhros’ spine. “Do I need to take you in hand, doll?” He spanked Maedhros again once, roughly, before massaging the darkened skin. “Come here,” he murmured, pulling Maedhros up and to him so that they were both sitting up and facing each other just in front of the fire.

Maedhros growled but leaned into the touch, but looking into Fingon's eyes made him lose his nerve and he looked down, blushing brightly. "I'd like to be your good boy but be treated like your bad boy, I suppose," he said. "Though maybe not now," he added quickly, awkwardly, "if we'd just rather relax. I _do_ like, um, if you'd let me serve you? All night. However you want. I would like that." He looked up hopefully.

Fingon moved forward and seated himself in Maedhros’ lap, arms and legs wrapping around him. He snuggled close, tucking his face against Maedhros’ neck. “That sounds lovely,” he whispered against his husband’s skin. “You’re spoiling me terribly, but it sounds wonderful. And I like having you be very, very good for me, doll, but I think we can arrange to play as though you’re being quite bad.” He pressed a smile against Maedhros’ throat. “For tonight though, you’ve taken such good care of me, and I’d be happy to continue with that.” Perhaps tomorrow evening or the next night I might serve you, my prince? He queried gently.

Maedhros' heart fluttered with desire and love, and he nodded. "Yes. Please. I would love that very much." He kissed Fingon's lips with chaste reverence. "And whenever you let me take care of you and spoil you, you please me more than you know," he said.

“I know,” Fingon whispered, squeezing Maedhros. “And I very much want to please you, and to serve you, and to be your partner in every way I can.” They kissed again, slowly and gently. “You really are spectacular, meldanya. Now, tell me, did you eat enough or are you still hungry? I want both of us plump and satiated-“ he glanced at Maedhros, “well, satiated at least, I’m not sure one dinner will do anything to your form Maitimo-- before our bath.”

"I could eat raspberries until I explode," Maedhros said. "I had plenty at dinner, and I would rather like to get un-sticky," he added with a grin.

“Will you get the shower started if I start working on dishes?” Fingon suggested, cupping Maedhros’ cheek and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Do you think we can leave the chocolate in the fondue pot and just reheat it if we want more later?”

"Oh--yes. I should help. I can help," Maedhros offered, loath to let Fingon wash all or even any of the dishes after his declaration of service, of fealty. He began gathering up the dishes.

“I’ll help as well. I’m happy to do all of them, if you’d like.” Fingon stood with a groan and stretched, arms raised high over his head. “Thank you, Russandol,” he added, moving forward to slip his arms around Maedhros from behind. “I know how much you hate doing dishes.” He kissed his neck once and grabbed a handful of raspberries before beginning to gather up the rest of their dessert and move it into the kitchen.

"I would endure much more for you, I promise," he said, beginning to put the food away.

“And I everything for you,” Fingon whispered. Working together they quickly cleaned the area. It was comforting, working side by side silently, and it was an incredible show as Maedhros moved around, unconcerned with his nudity. When they were finished Fingon moved into his husband’s arms and they stood, swaying for a time. “Shower,” he whispered, leaning up to brush their lips together. “Or clean up the dirty sheet and get a fire ready for later in the bedroom. You pick one and I’ll take care of the other. Divide and conquer,” added with a smile.

Maedhros laughed. "Ah, I'll deal with the sheet and the fire," he offered, gathering it up and taking it to the washroom.

Fingon retreated to start the shower and bath. As the water warmed he stepped into the spray without waiting for Maedhros. He poured shampoo into his hand, suddenly feeling dirty and desperate to clean his hair. The room began to steam up as he stood, head tilted back and letting the water pound over his hair and face.

"Findekáno, I got the fire started in--Oh," he said, discovering Fingon in the shower. "May I join you?"

Blinking and stepping out of the spray, Fingon found his gaze caught by his husband. “Please.” He spoke softly. “I just wanted to get some of the chocolate out of my hair.” He grinned at the admission, inviting Maedhros forward. “You’re beautiful, love. Please join me. I want to have your skin against mine, your lips pressed against my own, your hands in my hair and my own in yours.”

"That sounds lovely," Maedhros said, stepping into Fingon's arms and under the warm water. "Oh, this feels wonderful," he said, kissing him and wrapping his arms around him.

“Better than wonderful.” Fingon pressed close, enjoying Maedhros’ warmth and his husband’s strong arms around him as much as the warm cascade of water. His body was vaguely interested in events, though it was comforting more than arousing and what he most wanted was to remain close to Maedhros. “May I wash your hair, love?”

"Please," Maedhros said, kissing him again, and, eyes focused entirely on Fingon, he knelt under the water and directly in front of Fingon, squinting up at him under the spray.

Fingon sucked in a breath, hesitant to even move. Are you trying to break me, Russ? The words floated along their bond softly. Your beauty steals my breath and entrances me completely while your fëa leaves me desperate to please you, to serve you, to make you proud. He remained there for a long moment before he could pull himself away to reach for the shampoo. He carefully worked it into Maedhros’ hair, building up a lather and trying to work on each sticky spot individually. “Feel good?” he asked with a grin, pausing in his work to massage his husband’s scalp with firm circles of his fingertips.

"Feels--amazing," Maedhros said, eyes closed. He reached out to rest his hands on Fingon's hips for balance. You make me happy, you please me, you make me proud. I love everything that you are, and you make me what I am. I love you. Thank you for washing my hair. He smiled up at Fingon.

“Anytime,” Fingon assured him. He grinned and leaned down to kiss Maedhros. “Now, it will be easier to rinse out if you stand up.” He offered Maedhros his hands and helped his cousin to his feet, fingers trailing over wet skin once Maedhros was standing.

"Mm," he hummed. "Should we--move into the bath--or?--I'm quite happy here," he said, wrapping his arms around Fingon and pulling him close and kissing him.

“I should-- ah-- turn the water on so it at least starts to fill.” Fingon lingered in Maedhros arms before stepping away momentarily. He danced back across the floor-- far too cool, in his opinion-- and into the shower. “Cold!” He looked up at Maedhros hopefully. “Warm me up?”

Maedhros yanked Fingon back into the shower and glomped onto him, hugging him and spinning him in the narrow space. After a moment he turned off the shower and scooped Fingon into his arms. "Bath now?" he asked, carrying him and setting him down in the hot water, sliding in behind him with a groan. "Mmmmm," he sighed.

“Love this,” Fingon murmured, settling back gratefully. “Are you feeling a bit more clean?” he asked teasingly. “I was getting rather sticky and chocolaty at the end… but it was certainly fun getting that way!” He rested his head on Maedhros’ shoulder and turned it, so that he was looking up at Maedhros and could kiss the corner of his chin.

Maedhros laughed, kissing Fingon back. "Yes. I liked the chocolate. I would like that every day. Fingon topped with chocolate and berries." He chuckled. "I'm sorry about the mess. I enjoyed it though."

“Me too. I want to cover you in chocolate and lick all of it off. Maybe leave a trail of berries, or just dot them across you randomly as pleasant surprises as I work my way over your skin, revealing your beauty inch by inch.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I’m not sorry about it. It was fun and well worth getting a bit sticky and having to clean a sheet. You have the best ideas, my Russandoll.”

He grinned. "Here, turn around in my arms. Would that be comfortable? Chest to chest. I want to--see your face. And kiss it. And touch it." He slid down further in the bath so Fingon could lay flat against him. "May I--how may I serve you, Findekáno? Can I do anything for you? Scratch your back? Is the water warm enough?"

“In a minute you can wash me,” Fingon suggested. “The water is perfect and you are most comfortable. And, perhaps when we’re washed and relaxing, or once we’re in bed, you could enter me again or take me within your mouth and bring me to completion once more?” He gave Maedhros a small smile. “I would very much like to finish one more time, gently and softly. Perhaps tomorrow we might even recreate the first time we came together as lovers, while we’re here and the couch is right there waiting to be used?” He flushed lightly though he was sure Maedhros wouldn’t mind the turn his thoughts had taken.

"Yes," Maedhros breathed, hands wandering over Fingon's soft skin. "Please. I want you--I like to take care of you. I like to--any way you want. I want to be yours, as you are mine. Want you to tell me what you want. Like it when you tell me--what to do." He grinned softly. "So let me serve you, and I will be as happy as you could make me."

“I would have you so happy and comfortable you never wanted to move, never wanted to leave.” Fingon gazed at Maedhros, relishing the fingers moving across his face. “I would have the weight of the world taken from your shoulders so that you might stand free and unburdened.” He smiled gently. “But if serving me will help please you, then I would enjoy your assistance. Though I’m not sure if I’m quite ready for an unclothing experience like we had during our walk. Perhaps something a bit more relaxed and gentle this evening.” He reached out, hands skating over Maedhros’ chest. “Would you finish washing me now, please?” He groped at the side of the tub, finding the soap and a soft cloth and offering them to his husband.

Nodding eagerly, Maedhros took the soap and lathered up the cloth before pressing it to Fingon's skin and rubbing over his chest, his neck, under his arms and down, and when he was done with one half he shifted Fingon in his arms to wash the other side of him. "I'll wash your legs now," he said, laying Fingon down in the bath and himself sitting up, sliding across the bath until he sat between Fingon's legs. He washed him gingerly and carefully over his entrance, probing it slightly with a finger to test for tenderness or injury. "All right?" he whispered.

Fingon nodded, breath catching. "'s good," he whispered. "Feels..." He shifted, trying to get Maedhros to press inside of him. "Good. A little tender but not bad. Needy. Wanting. Later... I want you within me, arimelda." Fingon sighed, relaxing against the far side of the tub as he let Maedhros manipulate his feet and legs, washing him gently and reverently. His eyes slipped shut as he basked in the warm water and Maedhros' ministrations. "Thank you. This feels amazing, Russ."

"As you wish," Maedhros hummed, washing and kissing each foot in turn. "I love you. I want to love you and make you feel good every second of every day," he promised. The warm water was getting to him, too, and he felt relaxed and lethargic. He didn't suppose he would be a very energetic lover tonight, but he also didn't think that that was what Fingon wanted.

Fingon twitched once as his husband's touches tickled the bottom of his foot, but he was so comfortable and so relaxed that it hardly bothered him. "Mhmm," he hummed. I want exactly what you want- slow and relaxed and good. 'Cause we don't have to rush or worry about being separated- we have forever now. Fingon slid lower, the water lapping against his chin, and he sighed and moaned softly at Maedhros' touches and kisses. "Love you. Thank you. Russs."

"Love you. Thank you," Maedhros said, massaging Fingon's feet delicately until he moaned, and then he worked his way up his calves, and soon was on hands and knees directly over him. "Kiss?" He begged softly.

Fingon half rose from the water, sliding his arms around Maedhros' back as he pressed their lips together. Yes, please, always, thank you, he thought. He tugged Maedhros down as he settled back in the water, blanketing himself with his cousin. "Do you think we need a little more hot water?"

"We could, yes," Maedhros said, turning the tap and sliding against Fingon pleasantly, without any rush, and kissing him again. He rested his arms under Fingon's head to keep his mouth and nose above water and kissed him again and again. "You still taste like chocolate," he grinned.

"That isn't a bad thing, is it?" Fingon grinned, then looked up and splashed as he shifted, smile slowly disappearing. "Oops. I had wanted to try dipping mint leaves in chocolate but I forgot. Would you mind trying tomorrow with me?" He grinned again, squeezing Maedhros to him.

"I would not mind trying such a thing," Maedhros replied. "You taste and feel delicious. I should say we should do this all the time except for the mess." He grinned and slid against him softly.

Fingon inhaled sharply and relaxed, enjoying Maedhros rubbing against him. "Aw, but the mess is part of the fun, Russ! Though I'll admit you taste just as good even without chocolate and berries."

Maedhros laughed and nodded. "I should say the same thing about you," he said, nibbling on the fleshy part of his shoulder and teething his way down Fingon's arm.

"Aaah!" Fingon squeaked, splashing about playfully as Maedhros 'attacked' him. "Findekáno is not for eating!" Fingon cocked his head and thought about what he had said. "Well, not always for eating." He squirmed, sliding his hands between them and tickling his husband, giggling.

Maedhros yelped and pulled back, catching Fingon's wrist. "No tickling, then!" he demanded.

"If you insist." Fingon laughed aloud, tugging Maedhros closer with a splash and holding him tight. "Love this. Love you. And you started it!" He stuck out his tongue, grinning happily.

Maedhros sucked that tongue into his mouth and into a kiss, full of passion and desire. "Mm. I'm also perfectly capable of finishing it," he growled, nipping along his jaw.

Fingon swallowed and pressed against him, already half hard. "You're going to completely exhaust me," he murmured. "Is that your plan, Russ? To have me so throughly used and loved that I can't even lift my head let alone stand or walk when we're done?" He kissed his husband again. "I think I could handle that."

Maedhros thought about this. "I would have you able to walk but unwilling to, I think," he corrected. "If I wanted to keep you in bed I'd use other means," he added with a wicked grin.

"Hmmm. I can't wait to break in our new bed." Fingon's eyes danced as he looked up at his husband. "I think you will look absolutely stunning spread out and tied to it."

"Mm," Maedhros agreed, stomach stirring dangerously. "You haven't got me there yet, though," he growled, holding him tight. "And you said you wanted me to have you tonight. Gently. Carefully. Lovingly. I'm going to take my time with you." He kissed Fingon's plump red lips deeply.

Head lolling back Fingon relaxed again, calmed by the hot water and Maedhros' weight. "Please," Fingon whispered. "But not to tease terribly, just to make everything slow and leisurely- like we're floating up and over the edge or letting desire simmer slowly." He ground up against Maedhros once and then relaxed beneath his husband. "Like this. I love this, love thee." He offered his lips again, watching Maedhros with pleased and adoring eyes.

Maedhros laughed. "Okay, I'll try not to tease you too much," he said, and backed off. "So I'll not tease you further, but wait until we get in bed. Do you want to soak longer or go to bed? Would you let me braid your hair?"

"Umm… Russandol?" Fingon blushed. "Can you wash my hair again for me? I didn't tie it back and I've been lying on it in here. It's going to be tangled again." And he liked when Maedhros washed his hair, massaging his head and working slowly to clean it thoroughly. "And then if you're ready I would love if you would braid my hair. Would you like to make hot chocolate and then climb into bed?"

"Yes, I would love to," Maedhros said, "and I'll take my time with it, and I won't tease," he promised, kissing him. If you'll sit up, I'll brush it out now."

"A little teasing's good. Sorry. I'm being difficult." He sat up and wrapped his arms around Maedhros' neck, kissing him deeply. "I'm sorry, Russ. And you'll be wonderful-- you've never let me down. You never could."

Maedhros huffed. "You are not being difficult. I told you I wanted your desires. You're being too gentle with me if anything. I want your orders. 'Brush my hair, Maitimo' you could say, 'massage my feet,' 'take me now,' 'make me come'." He grinned. "I want to hear you say these things. Then if I obey I surely cannot let you down."

Fingon huffed. "You can't anyway," he assured him. He pulled back with a smile. "Wash my hair, Maitimo. And make the untanglement process as painless as you did when I was a child." He pecked Maedhros on the cheek before scrambling to situate himself with his back to his husband.

Maedhros giggled. "Yes, good," he said, kissing him back. "I also like it when you use the words you made up as a child. It's very cute. Untanglement," he repeated to himself, taking a brush and, starting from the bottom, untangled his hair.

"Untanglement. Choc-o-late. My Russ. Twice killed veg. Mush mush mush, room room rooms, mush mush rooms rooms, mushrooms!" Fingon looked back for a moment with a laugh. "And I like when you use the high accent. And when you read and do voices- I could listen to you all day."

"I like that you call me 'Russ'. My brothers picked it up, and I like it less from their mouths." He kissed Fingon's neck. "You're the only one I like to call me that."

"Russ," he whispered. "Russandol. My Russ. Perfect Russ, precious Russ, princely Russ. Arimelda Maitimo. Tyë melin." I love your mouth on my neck. Thank you.

"You used to sing-song my name: 'melda Maitimo, melda Maitimo,' I think before you knew what it meant," Maedhros said. He couldn't stop smiling, and his face almost hurt. "It was cute. You are just cute. I hope it doesn't insult you when I say so," he added, hugging him tightly around his chest.

“Nuh uh.” Fingon leaned back, leaning onto Maedhros’ shoulder. “I like it. I like reminiscing with you and talking with you. You’ve always been one of the most important people in my life. And we had the best adventures when I was younger- cooking and setting out on quests, exploring and sparring and having fun. They were good times-- _are_ good memories, and I treasure them.”

"They are everything to me," Maedhros agreed, squeezing the water out of his hair as he finished untangling his hair. "And I so loved you I wanted to craft a perfect, exciting world around you, and share it with you. My motives were purely selfish. Your hair's done. Shall we get out?"

"I suppose." Fingon grabbed Maedhros' hand and held it before him. "We're getting all wrinkly," he said, rubbing at his husband's skin. "Let's get up and dry and make some hot chocolate. I want to dry off with a towel, but after that I have a challenge for you, if you'd like to take me up on it."

"Oh?" Maedhros grinned, standing and helping Findekáno out of the bath. "You know I promised to do anything you asked me tonight," he reminded him. He grabbed a towel and rubbed Fingon dry before toweling himself off. "All right?"

Fingon stood, wrapped in a towel and shifting to a spot closer to the bath where the floor was warmer. “I know, but this is a challenge- to keep things interesting. If you wish for an order, though, I suppose I can do that. I want to make hot chocolate with you before we retire to the bedroom. I’m going to put this towel down, and when I do you need to remove yours.” He watched his cousin’s eyebrows rise as eh continued. “Take me with you, do whatever you feel you need to, but I’ll be wet haired and naked and it’s your job as my protector and guardian, lover and best friend, to figure out a plan of attack and keep me warm.” Fingon looked at Maedhros, almost entirely covered by the large, soft towel. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

"Oh," Maedhros said, eyes sparkling. "I'll try." He frowned. "I suppose socks and a blanket aren't allowed?"

“Noooo.” Fingon spoke slowly and looked at his feet sadly at the mention of socks, but he had already decided on the rules and would not make an exception for the sake of his feet. His toes curled. “You’ll just have to be very creative.” He hoped his husband would be.

Maedhros grinned. "All right, you have to let me tie your hair back, first, so you don't catch your death of cold from the wet." He pulled Fingon onto a seat and quickly braided his hair in one long braid down his back. "All right?" he asked.

“Mhmm. Good, melda Maitimo. Come stand in front of me for a minute.” As soon as Maedhros moved Fingon stuck his cold feet atop Maedhros’, warming the bottom of each foot. “Warm,” he sighed with a pleased expression.

Maedhros grinned, his hands traveling up to hold Fingon. "I am--and I know exactly how I'm going to keep you warm," he said, and suddenly his hands turned traitor. He squeezed Fingon's ribs and tickled him under his arms, laughing preemptively as he tickled Fingon in all the places he knew he was most ticklish. And when Fingon yelped and moved away, Maedhros followed him. "I'm going to catch you!" he cried, chasing him through the house.

“Evil!” Fingon cried, sprinting until he reached the kitchen. “Evil, evil, evil!” He grabbed the pot of solidifying chocolate and held it threateningly as Maedhros sprinted into the room after him. “I will,” he warned, trying not to laugh at the expression his husband wore.

"You will what? You'll drop it on the floor where you cannot enjoy it?" Maedhros called his bluff. Put it down and keep running. I'm not done warming you up yet," he growled, stepping close and tickling him gently.

Fingon jumped back several feet. “It’s not quite solid- I’ll throw it over you and warm myself through desire and your heat as I lick it off you.”

"That is if I let you catch me," Maedhros said, changing tacks and making to dart out of the kitchen.

Fingon set down the chocolate, not actually wanting to spill it, and gave chase. “I’m going to tickle _you_ Russ!” he called out, leaping over the couch. He closed in, fingers just grazing Maedhros’ hair as he ran behind his husband, panting and laughing with exhilaration.

Maedhros set him on a merry chase, through the loop that was created by the two doors leading to the kitchen, and around the bedroom and over the bed, laughing all the while. Fingon was quicker in general and sharper round the corners especially, but Maedhros evaded him until both their hearts were pounding and their blood was racing.

With a final effort Fingon launched himself at Maedhros and toppled them, landing above him on the thick rug before the bedroom fireplace. “Russandol,” he murmured, pinning his husband. He lashes fluttered. “My Russandol.” The word became a moan as he ground down against his husband, flushed and beautiful and his.

"I--I though you wanted hot chocolate first?" Maedhros said breathlessly, arching against him. "And I thought you wanted this on the bed? Are you warm enough now?"

“I’m warm,” Fingon said. He ground down again. “You’re hot. And I do want hot chocolate.” He leaned down and nibbled on Maedhros’ ear, whispering. “Shall we to the kitchen, doll? Thank you for reminding me.”

Maedhros giggled and squirmed. "Let me up and I'll make you some?"

Shaking his head, Fingon stood and offered Maedhros a hand up. “I’ll make it with you. But if we’re standing around in the kitchen I might start to get cold again. You’ll have to protect me and keep me comfy.” He winked.

"I will, fear not," Maedhros promised, "and to keep your feet from the cold floor--" he scooped Fingon swiftly into his arms and carried him into the kitchen.

Fingon giggled and squirmed, snuggling close. "Will you still love me when you've spoiled me so much I've grown entirely lazy and want to be carried about in your arms often?" They walked into the kitchen and Maedhros moved to light a candle when Fingon's startled sound stopped him. "Look Russ," he whispered. "Step back- right where you were before- there, out the window. Isn't it beautiful?" It was dusk outside, and the sky glowed with Treeset, the golden and silver light of Laurelin and Telperion mingling with the dark sky and the silver blue of the stars in an ever shifting cascade of color. It looked like ink dropped into water, or how that might look if the ink and the water emitted light as did parts of the water's container. The result was stunning.

Kissing Fingon, he brought him the rest of the way into the kitchen. "Can you stand for a moment?" he asked, gathering milk and chocolate and a clean pan, which he warmed on the stove. "All right. Lean against me. Stand on my feet. Let me hold you," he said, wrapping an arm around him while he stirred the pot.

“As you wish,” Fingon murmured. He settled on Maedhros’ feet and leaned against his cousin. “Comfy. Thank you.” He pressed close, rubbing against Maedhros awakening desire. “Do you remember when I was trying to get you to dance with me and you finally just had me stand on your feet and spun us around the room?”

"Yes, I remember doing that a lot," Maedhros said. "When you were too small to know how to dance." He sighed against Fingon's gentle touches, and rocked back against him. The stove was still warm, but "Are you warm enough?" he checked.

“For now. I’m always warmer when I’m beside you or under you, around you, above you, in you. Do you need me to move so that you can finish the chocolate?”

"No, you're fine where you are," Maedhros said. "I can proceed one-handed." He stirred the pot and added more chocolate. "You could kiss me in the meantime, though," he said, pressing their hips and their arousals together.

Fingon squeezed Maedhros tight first, pressing against him from ankles to chest and resting his cheek against Maedhros’ chest. “You’re wonderful to me, Russandol, and to us. Have I told you how very much I love you today?” He pulled back only far enough to reach up, arousal dragging along Maedhros’ skin, until their lips met.

Maedhros hummed in pleasure, and returned the kiss happily. "I'm sure you have, but I wish to say it again, too. I love you, Findekáno. I love you so much." He glanced at the pot. "I think our hot chocolate is ready," he said, reaching for cups.

“Mhmm. Smells delicious.” Fingon rocked against Maedhros as his husband prepared their drinks. “I think you’re just about ready too.” He looked at Maedhros a little dazedly. “I am as well.”

"Just about," Maedhros said with a smirk. "Now I'm afraid I can't carry these and you, so you'll have to walk on your own. Can you run to the bedroom, get under the blankets, and wait for me?" he asked, grinning as though it were a game.

Fingon squeezed him once and nodded, running into the bedroom. He took a moment to light the fire and several candles before diving into bed and under the blankets. He pulled them up to his chin, legs tucking up into a small ball while he waited for his husband.

Maedhros followed happily, carrying the chocolates to the bed and handing one to the settled Fingon. "Comfy?" he asked, crawling into bed beside him.

"Almost," Fingon said. He sat up and shifted so that they both sat up against the headboard, sides touching. "There. Comfy when I'm with you." He blew on the surface of the drink, eyes on his husband before taking a small sip. "Russ! You melted marshmallows on top!" Fingon grinned widely, a small white marshmallow line stuck above his upper lip.

"Of course I did. I said I'd take care of you, didn't I?" Maedhros replied, wrapping an arm around Fingon's shoulders and kissing the bridge of his nose. "How could I spoil you properly without marshmallows? I mean, really," he teased.

"Thanks Russ." Fingon leaned into him, brushing their lips together and laughing as some of the white marshmallow transferred onto Maedhros' lips. "You have, ah, right here-- let me--" Fingon leaned close again delicately licking Maedhros' lips clean. "Delicious. You make the best food! And provide wonderful company."

Maedhros laughed and shied away from the tongue. "Unless you want to get messy again, I suggest we stop that right now," he said, but hugged Fingon close. "Thank you: as ever, you are my inspiration and purpose for making 'the best' food, and you are such a wonderful person to provide company for, so again I cannot take the credit," he beamed at Fingon.

Maedhros looked beautiful with his face lit up and Fingon smiled in response. "Love you," he whispered and took another sip of chocolate, gaining another marshmallow mustache in the process.

Maedhros licked the marshmallow off Fingon's lip, unable to follow his own rule, and looked sheepishly at him. "Love you, too," he said, setting his chocolate aside and turning fully toward Fingon.

"Thought you didn't want to get messy," Fingon teased gently as he set his own drink on the nightstand.

"I don't," Maedhros said, leaning in to kiss Fingon, to press against him, invade his space and cover him. "I just want you," he whispered, grinding gently against him.

Fingon's head fell forward against Maedhros' shoulder. "I want you too." He relaxed, holding Maedhros close while he allowed Maedhros to choose how they moved against each other.

Pressing Fingon flat against the bed, Maedhros took his time kissing and touching him, nibbling down his neck to his shoulders and chest, while his fingers wandered over his sex and between his legs. "I love thee. I need thee," he gasped, taking his time with them.

"As I love and need thee." Fingon's breath hitched as Maedhros played his hröa, leaving him pressed against the mattress. His cousin was gentle, though, and touched him to awaken his interest not to drive him completely mad. It was slow and sweet and precious. And as Fingon looked up at the glowing, content face above his own the word husband floated along their bond sweetly. "My husband," he said quietly, awed and undone and content.

"I love you," Maedhros breathed between each soft kiss. "You are my star, my light, my beacon. All that I am I am for you." He rubbed softly over every part of him, and kissed what his hands did not caress.

"Love you," Fingon whispered. Perfect. You're perfect. This is perfect. And I love you so. He stroked Maedhros hair and back with one hand while he rested, hips shifting every once in a while to press him more firmly against his husband and to feel Maedhros' arousal trapped between them. Fingon looked down between them before catching his husband's eye. "Tell me, beloved, what was your favorite part of today?"

"You," Maedhros answered automatically. "I could be a dishwasher for eternity if only I was with you." But he pondered as he laved the side of Fingon's neck. "I like wrestling with you," he said, "but I also liked walking nearly naked in the light with you. I like the way your eyes lit up at marshmallows. I liked everything," he admitted sheepishly. "And you?"

He grinned lopsidedly. "How can I answer differently? You, Russ. You are my everything, so of course I must say you and being with you." Fingon reached up, holding Maedhros close to him and breathing harshly as his husband continued to play with his neck. "I, ah, I love waking with you, and having you carry me in your arms. Making fondue and… I like when you let go and lose control a little… And afterward during our walk I really liked holding your hand." He tugged Maedhros up to kiss him.

"That hand still is yours," Maedhros said. "Where would you like it?"

"So many options… I'd like it everywhere." Fingon tilted his head. "It would be nice in my hand or squeezing around my neck. I like when you pet my hair or touch me, let me suck on them, stroke me, or fill me. What would you recommend right now?"

"Well I like my hands around your perfect neck, too, but not sure this is the right mood. What would you say to here?" He asked, sticking his fingers in Fingon's mouth.

Fingon sucked lightly in response, lathing them with his tongue and humming happily. "Mhmmm." It's good, Fingon thought. Love you. He rolled his hips, grinding them together.

"Love you, good," Maedhros whispered. "Want to breech you with just your saliva, so suck me good. For starters. Going to take my time with you."

Exhaling sharply Fingon shivered, muscles tightening and clenching in desire at Maedhros' words. I want that too, Fingon thought desperately, throwing a leg around Maedhros' waist and holding him close. Please, I want that. I'm ready, and I want you inside me, arimelda. He wondered if Maedhros would be sore from earlier, if his husband would have to move carefully over him as a result. He wondered if Maedhros would find as much pleasure in this as he did and he desperately hoped that his bonded would.

Yes, yes, Maedhros said. Do you think you've gotten me wet enough? He slipped his fingers from Fingon's mouth and replaced them with his lips. Fingon had already lifted a leg so he reached between his legs and massaged the area only briefly before pressing one finger inside.

Fingon shivered, body squeezing around Maedhros' finger. "Russ," he whispered, lips brushing against his husband's. "My melda Maitimo. So good. Perfect. More?"

"Yes, of course, darling, let me stretch you first," he gasped, kissing and nibbling him gently as he slid his finger in and out, and before the other dried out, he added the second. "All right?"

“Goooood.” Fingon slurred the word, relaxing against the covers and thrusting back lightly onto Maedhros’ fingers. Very good. “More, please? ‘m ready.”

"All right, love, let me get the oil," he said, reaching toward the jar on the nightstand while he kissed Fingon. "Going to open you up, make sure I don’t hurt you."

"Patience, hush," Maedhros cooed, kissing him softly, and as their lips met he pressed his fingers back inside. "Good?" He asked, holding Fingon tightly.

Fingon whined, loving Maedhros’ voice and his lips and his fingers. “Wonderful.” His extended leg shifted on the sheet while the leg thrown over Maedhros held him tightly. “I feel… pinned... safe… cherished. I love how you feel on top of me, beloved.”

"Me too," Maedhros whispered, sliding his fingers in and out and adding another. "Like you wriggling beneath me. So soft and warm. Love you. So good. Almost ready for me? Want you to take another finger first."

Wetting his lips Fingon caught Maedhros’ eyes and nodded. “Um… Could we, I mean… I want to take two this time Russandol. Your finger and your thumb. Feels good, stretched. Want to try more.”

"You want to take all five?" he breathed, and nodded. "More oil," he slicked his fingers again and added his little finger, scissoring them to stretch him as carefully as he might before, "Okay, big breath and let it out slowly," he said and slid his thumb in.

Fingon nodded and did as Maedhros said. His breath caught multiple times as Maedhros worked his fingers inside, and Fingon moaned brokenly. “Full,” he groaned. “Russ-- Russandol kiss me.”

"Good," Maedhros breathed, holding his hand still and kissing him. "Feels so good to be inside you. Hold still, I've got you. You're all right. I've got you. Breathe for me, Fin," he demanded.

“Russ!” Fingon gasped and nodded, taking quick shallow breaths. He clenched his hand in Maedhros’ hair, tugging as he tried to adjust to the feeling of Maedhros inside him. “How--” he glanced down but could see nothing and turned back to look at Maedhros. “How close-- are you? Is it-- how much more to have your hand inside?”

"Be still. You want my hand in you? Then you won't be able to feel me making love to you after. You're okay. I've got you, darling, I love you so," he said, holding him close and pressing their brows together. "We'll do that next time. For now I want you to just feel all of my fingers wriggling inside you," he whispered, fingers curling inside.

Fingon shook, mouth falling open as he trembled. His body did not know whether to clench shut or relax and he was dizzy, confused as his hröa tried to find a comfortable position. “Russss. Yes. Good. Full. Valar, Russ, please. Kiss me? Press- ah! Right there!” Want you inside me this time. Want to make love with you. Your hand feels amazing, Russ. Wonderful. So good.

Maedhros tickled the sensitive spot inside him a bit more before pulling out, kissing away his cries. "Shh, love, I've got you. So good for me, going to take you now. Ready for me?" he asked, but the answer was obvious. He slicked himself up and slid fully inside in one thrust.

Fingon cried out against Maedhros’ lips, wrapping his arms securely around his husband as his back arched. “Ruusss!” He felt his perspective shift again and was at once taken and taking, holding Russ to himself and pinning Findekáno below. He groaned and whined and urged Maedhros to move, moved above his husband trying to wrench more beautiful cries from him, pressed up against Maedhros as though trying to join them even more thoroughly. “Russandol. My doll. I love thee.”

"And I thee," Maedhros gasped, forcing himself to hold still while he kissed Fingon senseless. He flickered, experiencing what Fingon felt, and finding it pleasant, he began to move, shake at first, holding him carefully and firm.

“Can you feel… everything?” Fingon whispered, awed by the experience. “I shall never fail to be amazed by this, shall never cease to think of this as wondrous and to be drawn to this number. You feel… You are unimaginably perfect Russandol.” Fingon felt his thoughts a through their bond and even now Maedhros was concerned with his pleasure and well-being, almost more so than his own. His care and love were humbling and inspiring. “I am so proud to be your husband.”

"Yes, I feel--" everything really was the best way to describe it. "You feel so good. You complete me. I love you." He began to move quicker, sharper, seeking that angle that had Fingon dissolving into pleasure in his arms.

"Russandol!" Fingon groaned his name, hips rising to meet Maedhros' with each movement. He was falling, floating, flying in his husband's arms. He pushed what he saw towards his husband-- Maedhros in this moment, skin glowing in the candlelight and hair that looked like Fëanor had managed to capture fire itself and work it into metal. His brow was half furrowed as he focused on hitting the right spot, on making sure Fingon was driven completely mad, but as Fingon moved with him and tugged on the back of his hair waves of ecstasy washed over his face, softening his features further. He looked ethereal, as though his fëa shone through his hröa bright and warm and perfect. "I love thee," Fingon half-sobbed. He pressed upwards and tugged Maedhros down, kissing him desperately. I love thee.

I love thee, Maedhros echoed. "Shush, now, shush," he said. "I've got you. You're all right. I'm going to take care of you. Just a little bit more and I want you to come for me," he huffed, slowing himself to long strokes. Fingon was beautiful like this, as he always was, but lost and desperate and needy like this made Maedhros feel needed by him. This happiness was beyond compare. "Love you," he said, kissing him and taking him in hand, stroking him in time to his thrusts. "Come for me, darling."

Fingon sighed Maedhros name as he finished, one hand clenching in the sheets while the other held tight to Maedhros’ hair. “Russandol. My doll. Perfect.” This was perfect. Maedhros was perfect. Fingon could imagine no place he would rather be. He felt blissful, tranquil, and deliriously happy in his husband’s arms. The only other thing he wanted was for Maedhros to finish, to know he brought his husband to the same release and pleasure. “Finish for me,” he moaned, body still shaking and clenching around Maedhros. “Come for me, arimeldanya.”

"Going--to--" Maedhros promised, and before he finished speaking he was coming inside Fingon, and he felt powerful but also protected here, and he bellowed his pleasure to the heavens before collapsing on top of Fingon, the only place he wanted to be in the world, and wrapped his arms around Fingon and held him, worshipped him.

Sighing softly, Fingon shifted and snuggled close, trying to entwine himself further with his husband. “I love thee,” he whispered. “That was- that was beautiful, Russ. You’re beautiful.” He smiled, lips brushing against his husband’s skin. “I still think we should find a creative way to use a mirror at some point. Even if we already see through each other’s eyes.”

Maedhros laughed. "I'm not sure I wouldn't lose my nerve entirely," he admitted. "Seeing myself through your eyes is different than seeing myself through my own eyes." He nuzzled Fingon's cheek and settled warmly over him.

“You’ll always be beautiful,” Fingon murmured, though he did not press the issue. He nuzzled Maedhros’ in return, hands running over him gently. “I know what you mean- seeing myself through your eyes is…” he shivered. “I’ve never felt so beautiful, so good, so worthy as when I see myself as you see me.” He grinned. “Thank you for a truly wonderful day, Russ.”

"Thank you for a wonderful beginning to a wonderful life with you," he said, kissing him gently.

Yes, Fingon thought, arms and legs entwined with his husband. He relaxed, content to hug Maedhros, smelling his husband, wood burning, the clean scent of the sheets, and chocolate. Chocolate. "Mmm. I'm too comfortable to move, Russ. But soon, we should finish our hot chocolate." Your cooking is too good to waste!

"Oh yes, I forgot," Maedhros said, kissing him. He pulled pillows beneath Fingon's head and lifted him up. "Here's your hot chocolate," he offered.

Fingon took a sip and was pleasantly surprised and the drink was still warm. "Not to hot and not cold." He grinned. "Are you going to have more of yours?"

"I might let mine go to waste," he said, still curled around and focused on Fingon. "I've had my fill."

"Do you want a sip of mine?" Fingon held up the cup in offering, lips painted white again with melted marshmallow. "Thank you again, Russ. It's perfect hot choc-o-late!" He grinned, leaning into his husband and basking in their shared warmth.

Maedhros grinned. "No, I don't need anything, thank you. I'll just--watch." He liked watching Fingon's lips and tongue and throat at work.

"Will you help clean my lips at least? I'm all sticky?" Fingon's tongue darted out to delicately touch the corners of his mouth, licking at the white, sugary coating.

"Oh you can be sure of that," Maedhros answered with a giggle, swiping at a bit of the foam with his tongue. "I told you I would have my fill."

"What if I wanted that?" Fingon caught Maedhros' lips with his own, playfully sharing the sweet taste. When they pulled apart he looked at Maedhros and giggled, holding his drink carefully. "Now you're lips are marshmallowy too! I think I'll have to clean them."

"Oh, no, whatever shall I do?" Maedhros laughed, offering himself for kissing.

Fingon leaned forward meeting him in a series of fleeting kisses, stealing back a little marshmallow each time before offering a longer, deeper kiss and sharing the sweet taste with his husband. Perfect, he thought as Maedhros tongue danced with his own. This is how I want to spend the rest of my life. This is how I will happily move forward into eternity.

And I, Maedhros agreed, smiling but eyes steeled. I love you. When Fingon went back to his drink Maedhros settled against his chest, closing his eyes and listening to his heartbeat.

Continuing to sip on his drink Fingon smiled and ran a hand over Maedhros' hair. Unspeakably beautiful, he thought. There are not words. When he finished the drink he set it aside and shifted so that he could pay more attention to his resting husband. He began untangling his long tresses and running his hands lightly along Maedhros' skin. "Feeling good?" he murmured.

"Shh," Maedhros whispered, as if this were important, delicate work. "I'm memorizing your heartbeat."

Fingon settled back against the pillows content to let Maedhros continue to memorize. He began to rub his husband's back softly, delighted by the play of soft skin under his fingers. Anvanya, he thought, though he did not speak. He could feel his heartbeat continuing to slow as he relaxed, happy to lie with Maedhros like this through the night.

"I think I've got it," Maedhros murmured after a while, fingers twisting around the end of Fingon's braid. "But I am content to lie here as long as you are."

"I'll want to add another log to the fire in a little while, but I'm happy to stay like this right now." Fingon continued to play with Maedhros' hröa lazily. "I like just touching you like this- not with intent per se, but simply because I can. Because we can. And because it feels good." He squeezed the back of Maedhros' neck lightly before his hand drifted down to Maedhros' back again, circling gently.

"Yes, this feels good," Maedhros agreed, humming into Fingon's touches. "And I'll get the fire, don't worry. If I don't fall asleep like this."

"Mhmmm." Fingon's eyes slipped shut as they relaxed. "Love this." He yawned, shifting to wrap a let around his husband's.

Maedhros blinked carefully and shook himself. "I'll go take care of the fire," he said, "before I really do fall asleep." He kissed Fingon and got up. "Would you like anything while I'm up? A glass of water?"

"A glass of water, please. And a handful of raspberries." He watched Maedhros, body shivering as he followed the smooth lines of his husband's back and rear while he fixed the fire and walked from the room.

Maedhros returned quickly with the water and the raspberries, stealing one. "A sufficient offering?" he asked, "To allow me back into bed?"

Fingon pretended to consider. "Offer me one with a kiss and I think it will be quite sufficient." He grinned and leaned up, offering his lips to Maedhros before he accepted the raspberries and drink.

Maedhros grinned and took another raspberry gently in his lips, and pressed it to Fingon's mouth without using his hands.

Opening his mouth to the kiss, Fingon accepted the raspberry gratefully. The flavor burst over his tongue filling both their mouths as he wrapped an arm around Maedhros' neck and deepened the kiss. "Hmm, I think it'll do. Sufficient," he said with a smile in answer to Maedhros' question. "Do you want to read by the fire or are you ready to turn in?"

"I--" Maedhros began sheepishly. "I confess I could sleep. But I can always, I think, be convinced to read and stay awake with you." He offered another raspberry kiss.

Fingon rubbed Maedhros' back gently and closed his eyes to savor the kiss. "Let's sleep then. We can sit by the fire and read tomorrow." He snuggled close to Maedhros. "Thank you for a perfect, wonderful day vennonya. I am very, very happy, and, as always, with everything I am, I love you."

"You sure that's all right?" Maedhros asked, stretching out on top of Fingon's chest. "I could bring you a book."

"It's alright. Well, if you want to bring a book we can put it on the nightstand and it will be ready if we want to read a little before we get up." He shrugged and yawned. "I'm happy, though, just as we are. And it certainly isn't a hardship to relax in your arms and fall asleep with you." He smiled, leaning in for a kiss. "I like having you above me. I'm safe and warm and will gladly fall asleep just like this."

Maedhros' smile was like a child's praised for what he was already proud of. "I'll--I'll get it in the morning, is that all right?" He was loath to move now that he was settled again.

"Perfect." Fingon responded. He smiled softly, filled with Maedhros' happiness. "Let's just pull the blanket up, and I would have you pressed against me till morning. "I love thee," he added softly as they tucked the blanket around them. He had an arm draped over Maedhros and held him close as they drifted, half-asleep already.

"I love thee," Maedhros answered softly, eyes fading closed from where he rested his head on Fingon's chest, limbs wrapped securely around him, memorizing his heart and breath and letting the sound send him to sleep.

Fingon followed soon after, stroking Maedhros' back until he also drifted off. Through the night he felt warm and safe and happy, and when he blinked his eyes open in the morning he found that they had not moved during the night. Maedhros was still using him as a resting spot, and Fingon felt lethargic and comfortable and half sunken into the mattress. He leaned down and kissed Maedhros' brow, hand resuming its gentle circles on his husband's back.

They spent another, quiet day at the cabin reading by the fire or taking short walks. And after a night of passionate embraces and soft words of adoration they left for the house-- _their_ house.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The newlyweds travel to their new home and begin to explore the house.

_They spent another, quiet day at the cabin reading by the fire or taking short walks. And after a night of passionate embraces and soft words of adoration they left for the house--_ their _house._

 

 

As the afternoon mingled light shone brightly Fingon was bouncing on his horse’s back. Fortunately his mare seemed more amused than annoyed by his temperament and put up with him good-naturedly. “Do you think we’ll be able to see it around the next bend?” he asked Maedhros, having been asking the question in several slightly reworded variations for the past hour. “What do you think it will look like inside? Apart from what we saw in the drawings? What are you looking forward to the most? Where do you want to explore first once we arrive?”

"Maybe, I don't know, the kitchen, and the bedroom," Maedhros answered in quick succession, grinning broadly. "It's supposed to be near, according to the maps--the symbolism of its placement between our two fathers' houses is noted." He reached between them to take Fingon's hand and kiss it. "I'm excited, too," he said, and as his eyes drifted from Fingon to the road ahead of them: "Oh! Do you think that's it?" he cried.

Fingon’s mare stopped as he stared. Their home was beautiful- even from here he could see graceful curves and light- such light as could only come from their house, the blue-light of some crystals reflecting off the nearby streams and mingling with fiery colors in other lamps. The play on their fathers’ colors was blatant, but no less beautiful for that fact. They had turned into a valley in the land of hills and forest midway between their father’s houses, and built against and along and into one cliff was their home, surrounded by bright plants and running water. It looked organic, Noldorin, and princely even from here. Fingon reached out, grasping Maedhros’ hand tightly.

Maedhros paused, too, breath catching at the sight. It was tall, with tall windows, and many levels--he could see at least three from here: lots of stairs, he imagined, or ladders. The stream which dropped over the side of the cliff decorated half of their home with glittering, rushing water, and the large annex through which the stream ran seemed like it must be the forge. Beyond this he could not tell where the windows led, and his curiosity burned in him like he had been on his wedding day, excited to see Fingon. He nudged his horse sharply. "Come on, let's go!" he called to Fingon, surging forward and pounding across the stone bridge that connected the two sides.

Shouting joyfully Fingon raced to catch up, the pack horse following behind them at a slightly more sedate pace though she too seemed pleased to canter forward. The sound of hooves on stone chimed through the valley as they tried to get to the house- their house. Their home. Fingon felt his husband’s delight mingling with his own back and forth. He found himself staring at the lower level and he could just barely make out what looked to be the library. There were large openings, windows easily the height of two or three stories in their grandfather’s house. They were surrounded by pillars which appeared to grow from the stone of the cliff, either carved or with ivy and trees encouraged to grow along and around them. Then the light hit at an angle and Fingon realized it was both, and the carved portions had sections covered in gems, green for the foliage and yellow and red and purple and blue, silver and gold and orange- a rainbow of colors for the flowers and plant life. He leaned down, clinging to his mare’s neck as he begged her to hurry. He wanted to go in inside, to be with Maedhros, to explore and to play, to search through the library and try on the garments his mother had made them. And he wanted to make love to Maedhros in every room of the house before exploring what other secrets the valley and the surrounding valleys and hills might hold.

As he thought from a distance, the forge was an entirely separate building, and Maedhros raced his mare once around it, whooping wildly. He dropped off his horse as she ran past and he fumbled at the door of the forge and workshop. The windows were large, letting in plenty of light, but neither was this a dainty greenhouse. "Oh, Fin!" Maedhros cried as Fingon's horse trotted up, and he rushed them and pulled Fingon to the ground with him to hug him. "Oh, it's beautiful! Can we go inside? Come on!" he said, tugging Fingon to the front door, which was flanked by a row of small fruit trees and guarded by an iron gate. Wrought iron furniture sat on the lawn where they could catch the morning sun at breakfast--and on the other side, the sun was setting where it could be seen from the huge windows. He tried the handle before, "Wait," he said, drawing back. "I'm supposed to carry you over the threshold. Or you me."

"Findekáno!" Maedhros laughed, and swept him into his arms, stepping through the large door Fingon opened. The hall it opened immediately into was gorgeous. Tall ceilings but not obnoxiously so, the large windows on the far side, a table long enough to seat the Fëanorians plus one, and dark wood paneled walls. "Oh, Fin," he said, mouth hanging open as he still held Fingon.

Fingon was tilted awkwardly in Maedhros' arms as he tried to look out at the first room. "Beautiful," he murmured. He turned to hug Maedhros and then twisted so that his husband set him down. He began a quick walk about the hall, noting the statues, wall hangings, and finely carved wood. "It's perfect!" he declared, spinning around in delight. "I cannot wait to see the rest."

"It is perfect!" Maedhros agreed, rushing to Fingon and clasping him in his arms. "It's beautiful. You look beautiful in here. You make it beautiful." He kissed him before taking his hand and running around the room, pulling him along to press their noses against the huge windows and look down--a dizzying height.

"Our home," Fingon whispered, awed. "I can already imagine a thousand adventures exploring, and more when we have Ingoldo and Nerwen visit. And I think we'll have to have a huge game of hide and seek all through the house!" He waved his arms as he spoke, close to vibrating with excitement. "Where to next?" He pressed close to his husband's side, turning to look up at his profile.

Maitimo had already caught sight, over Fingon's shoulder, of the kitchen, and eyes widening, he sprinted in that direction, and skidded to a stop just inside, in total awe. "Valar," he breathed, eyes caught by the hanging lamps, the fans, the window, and the tall ceiling. There was a center countertop made of a single slab of blue marble--and the marble countertops were all blue. The cabinets and pantries, of which there were many, were wood inlaid with brushed nickel, and all the fittings in the sink were of the same matte-metallic color. There were two ovens and a huge stovetop, and every other amenity imaginable. He imagined himself cooking a feast for a hundred--or at least his entire family--which was pretty near that number--and not needing to clean a single surface before the task was done. "Oh my," he said.

Fingon followed slowly, eyes wide. "It's perfect, Russ," he said quietly. "Exactly what you deserve. You like it?"

"It's perfect! It's beautiful!" Maedhros cried, suddenly jumping for joy, and wheeling around he took Fingon by the shoulders. "And everywhere I look I see the color that most reminds me of you! Are you hungry now? Let me make you something?" he said, rummaging through the stocked larders.

Fingon slipped behind him, arms going around his husband's waist while he tucked his chin on Maedhros' shoulder. He lit up at the thought that their kitchen, Maedhros' domain, reminded his husband of him. "Can you make baked Brie?" Fingon suggested. "I'm sure we have a cellar somewhere- I can look for a nice wine to go with it."

"I'll make you a seven course dinner that will last until morning where I'll make you a five-course breakfast with only pauses for lovemaking until I dirty every damn dish in the house!" Maedhros laughed, whooping, and lifting Fingon and spinning him, and laughing until he felt ridiculous. "Ah. But baked brie, yes. To start. Oh I could make the brie tart. That takes longer. Never mind. Baked brie. Let's look for wine together," he said, clasping Fingon's hand and-- "OH," he said, looking at his shoes and stepping gingerly back. Because there, on the floor, covered by a trap-door of clear-polished crystal, lay a wine cellar. "Findekáno, I think I'm going to faint," he decided.

"I'll catch you," Fingon offered. He quickly stepped up to wrap his arms about Maedhros jokingly. "Shall we descend?" He glanced at the artistry of the trapdoor, and groaned. "I just remembered who built this. With our family… I see us here two hundred years from now _still_ finding new hidden passageways and trapdoors!" He grinned. "Are you ready to spend two hundred years or more living and searching with me?"

"I think we'll find them in one. But that does not mean I won't spend two thousand years and more looking for them with you," Maedhros promised, sweeping Fingon into a kiss and dipping him backwards as he did so. When they surfaced, gasping for air, Maedhros smiled. "Let's have a look," he said, and lifted the latch to the wine cellar and let Fingon descend down the small, crowded steps first.

The staircase was a crystal spiral with glowing gems edging each step. Fingon floated down it, almost dancing as he found his way into the cellar and had to catch himself against the wall. "Russandol?" he called softly. It was a cellar that belonged in a palace, a large circular room with bottles from floor to ceiling on every wall and a table in the center. There was a leather bound book- a ledger- and a control on the wall to raise or lower the crystal light in the room. "I think we may spend the next 200 years just trying to thank father and mother and father and mother and grandfather and our brothers and Irissë!"

Maedhros grew nervous. "We're sure we didn't accidentally walk into someone else's home?" he wondered suddenly, half-joking but genuinely feeling light-headed, and he sat heavily on a step. Half the bottles must have come from his father's wine cellar, or grandfather's, because these could not have been new purchases. "I, um." He waved helplessly at the wines. "How are--are they organized?"

"Book!" Fingon ran for the ledger, laughing, and swept it off the table with glee. As he opened it a card fluttered free. Fingon caught it with one hand, still balancing the book in his other. "Come on, Russ! You have to read it with me."

Maedhros took the card. "Oh, it's from Tyelko," he said with a laugh. "'Dear brother and brother, Irissë and I--' well here it looks like the word's been revised a few times, 'acquired you all this wine because we'll be over soon to drink at least half. Enjoy your honeymoon and don't do anything we wouldn't do' hug hug kiss kiss," Maedhros said with a laugh-groan. "Well we need to lock the doors. And I suppose get curtains, if we really are going to, ah, 'break in' each room as you planned." He smiled and pulled Fingon into his lap and kissed him slowly and thoroughly. "Where would you like to start?" he hummed.

"The cellar works for me… or do you want to go find a room with a couch or a bed?" Fingon was already sliding his hands up through his husband's hair, rolling his hips gently against him. "And we can get curtains if your really want, but this is our house. And our honeymoon. And if they intrude… well, the thought of them enjoying the view is somewhat disturbing so I'll just try not to think about it."

Maedhros kissed Fingon hungrily, already sliding his hands up his shirt. "I--you'll only get distracted. I'll only get distracted. Here." He tugged at the laces of Fingon's trousers, then stopped. "Damn it. Do you have any oil?" he asked.

"I don't _care_ , Russ! I'm fine. I'm good. Please--just--" he shook his head, shaking slightly. "Want you inside me. Please do this for me."

"No, no, no no no," Maedhros said, standing and lifting Fingon with him, letting the book of wines fall to the floor. "Come on," he groaned, climbing the stairs and setting Fingon to rest on the counter while he rummaged for-- "Yes, cooking oil," he gasped, returning to tear Fingon's trousers off him. "Oh, damn it, father!" he swore suddenly, and then laughed. "This countertop is too tall--tall enough for--" when he thought about it later, he realized his father had been incredibly thoughtful, and had raised the countertops slightly so that it was at a comfortable level (it was the same height as his work station in the forge back home--his father's home rather) but now it was too tall for him to--even standing on his toes--so with a frustrated grunt, Maedhros pulled himself up on top of the counter over Fingon, planting his knees on either side of Fingon's hips, and kissed him savagely.

Fingon arched up happily, yanking at Maedhros' hair and kissing back just as fiercely. "More," he groaned. "Valar, Russ it's been… hours. It's been hours. _Please_ husband, I need thee. Please beloved." Their bond was singing and Fingon closed his eyes to focus on every direct connection with his husband, mental and tactile. Can you feel it? I hadn't realized- I thought we were close all day, but… this-- this connection, I need this. I need thee. You are my life, my light, my everything.

"It's been hours?" Maedhros repeated, panting with the effort to remove Fingon from his trousers. A low fire lit in his belly at the thought of Fingon needing more, always more, that four hours unjoined was too many. Maedhros could not agree more. Still: "You greedy little thing," he teased. "Need me to fill you up in each room so your first memory of each is me and you can't but think of anything but me. Like I cannot think of anything but you." He held Fingon's neck, pressing him to the counter as he slicked himself and his fingers, pressing two digits inside without preamble.

"Fuuuck." Fingon groaned, thrusting up against the intruding digits. "Yes. Yes-- no. No. Not like that." He shook his head. "Not fair. You- you can have me here. And in some of the rooms. But in others, in others I'll have you first. And every time you enter you'll think of me inside you." He groaned as Maedhros added another finger, gasping around the hand on his throat. "You already said the kitchen reminds you of me, so perhaps the forge? As soon as we walk in will you let me take you over my anvil? Or perhaps over yours- that would be better don't you think? I'll just bend you over it and claim you, take you before we've even had a chance to see all that is in the room."

Maedhros growled in desire. "Yes, fuck yes," he moaned, rocking against Fingon wantonly. "But now I have you," he said, and tightened his hand around Fingon's throat a fraction. "Now you're mine." He kissed him possessively and scissored his fingers inside him. "Mm, you're still soft and open from before. Tell me, Fin, how often do you want this if _hours_ is too long a time?"

Fingon's legs thrashed under his husband and he moaned, feeling caught and pinned and owned and loved. "A-always," he groaned. He twisted his hand in Maedhros' hair and yanked. "Always. I love thee. I always wish to be close to thee, joined to thee- and to mingle our fear. Please, Russ?" He opened his mind wide, happy and aroused and inviting his husband within completely. The concept of 'their house' was still thrilling, and being here, with Maedhros, coming together for the first time in their home brought him close to completion from the thought alone. "Tyë melin," he breathed.

Maedhros was overwhelmed by the love and lust in Fingon's fëa. Our house, he said across the bond. Our house. As you are the house for my fëa. He pressed inside in one slow motion, groaning aloud. "Oh yes I love you," he whispered.

Mouth falling open and eyes slipping shut Fingon released a whisper of breath as he was breached. Russ. The name was a prayer and a plea moving across their bond. My Russandol. "Melda Maitimo," he murmured, and his arms shifted from grabbing Maedhros' hair to cling to him and hold him close. "Valar, Russ. I'll never tire of this. I always wish to embrace you, to hold you safe and warm within my hröa." Fingon clenched around his husband, holding tight for a long minute.

Maedhros whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut as he held tight to Fingon. "Ai, Findekáno," he said as he began to move.

Fingon turned his head slightly and focused on the ring shining on Maedhros' finger. He was pleased and awed and already growing desperate. He grinned as a thought came to him. "Later, we should bring a sheet down here for the table. I'd like to have you, just where I am now. I'll drop trails of wine across your hröa and enjoy the taste of them directly from your skin. Would you let me do that, darling?"

Maedhros nodded, sliding his hand from Fingon's neck to his sex, hips snapping back and fourth sharply, as if to remind him where he was. "I would. I would love that. I love you. Want to see you come for me, Finno."

"Close," Fingon admitted, hips moving in counterpoint. He bit his lip. "Are your ready, too? May I? Now?"

"Yes, yes now," Maedhros demanded, moving in him, "in our house, in this kitchen where everything reminds me of you. Come with me," he said as his thrusts stuttered out his release.

"Venno!" Fingon choked out his cry as he followed his husband's demand and finished, spending between them. "Russ. Russandol, how I love thee," he whispered after, eyes closed as he relaxed. He was shivering, shaking in Maedhros' arms. "Thank you," he whispered when Maedhros held him tighter.

Maedhros spent, shouting Fingon's name, and, going soft after, clasped him to him. He grinned as he panted and lay against Fingon. "Next room, or brie first?"

Fingon thought for a long minute. "Brie," he said eventually, his stomach helping with the decision. "And we can carry some with us while we explore. Shall I grab that wine bottle?"

"Please," Maedhros said, realizing belatedly that he was still on top of Fingon and that they were still messy. "Wait." He kissed Fingon's neck. "Let me--" He bent between them to lick Fingon free of his mess, and he laved lower, cleaning Fingon's sloppy entrance with his tongue.

"Russ!" Fingon's hands slipped as he sat up to watch his husband and tried to brace himself on the polished marble surface. "Russ," he groaned. He flopped back down and settled for running his fingers through Maedhros' hair as his husband drew whimpers and soft noises from him.

Maedhros licked him until he was clean, and then crawled off him, helping him to sit and then to stand. "All right?" he asked shyly, wiping his mouth.

Nodding silently Fingon pressed himself against Maedhros and held him. "You are- you make me feel..." Fingon shrugged helplessly. "Tyë melin. Tyë melin, arimeldanya."

Maedhros welcomed Fingon into his arms, holding him, drawing warmth and strength from him and pressing his nose into his soft hair. "Tyë melin," he whispered. "I love you, too." His hands slid down their bodies, righting both their trousers while he still held him.

"Wine." Fingon pulled away with a sigh. "And baked Brie. I'll be back in a few moments and then we can go exploring together." He stood on his toes and kissed Maedhros before descending into the cellar.

"How much do you want to bet one of us will leave the cellar door open someday and the other will fall down into it?" Maedhros laughed, going to the pantry to see if they even _had_ brie. They did, of course they did, and inside there was a note from Maglor which listed the items he had been sure to purchase in plenty for him. Thanking his brother silently he emerged with a loaf of bread kept cold. Normally he would like to wrap the brie in pastries and flavor them with jam or with balsamic vinegar, but here everything would be separate, which was quicker and would allow them to hurry on to seeing the rest of the house. He began to dance from foot to foot in excitement as he warmed the oven, sliced bread, and mixed a balsamic and oil (which now reminded him of Fingon) and spices dip for the bread.

"I certainly hope not," Fingon laughed as he returned. "Note to self: don't fall down the trapdoor." He held up a bottle as he walked over. "We have achieved wine! Now to find glasses and a bottle opener..."

"And to _close the door_ ," Maedhros reminded him sternly, eyeing the potential deathtrap. "I think the wine glasses will be up--" he opened a top shelf by the cold pantry. "Ah, yes. Father knows where I like to put things."

"And your brothers most likely know where you like to put things." Fingon took three steps back as though expecting something to explode. "I think if prefer to stay safely out of the blast zone while you explore this room."

"Oh, it's my honeymoon, darling," Maedhros said, going to where he expected the bottle opener to be. "If any time is sacred, it would be now," I hope, he added, opening the drawer gingerly. Nothing exploded and he drew out a fine-looking bottle opener. It wasn't until he went to scratch his nose that he realized there was black on his hands from underneath the drawer handle!

Moving further out of reach, Fingon burst out laughing. "Of course, darling. As you say, darling. Surely you know our brothers better than I." He moved to the far side of the table and close to the door should Russ give chase. "I think a hot bath is in our near future."

"Oh, damn it," Maedhros swore, putting his hand under hot water to wash off the prank and cursing his brothers colorfully. "Get back here," he snapped, "is it on my face?"

A little, Fingon thought but didn't say. "You'll always look beautiful to me. It's not washing off," he noted. "I suppose our next stop should be the forge to look for some mineral turpentine." He stayed out of reach and half grinned. "And I don't want you wiping it all over me!"

"You really don't trust me?" Maedhros repeated, with a dangerous gleam in his eye. "Yet you eat my food where I might feed you purgatives, and you sleep next to me where I might put your hand in warm water at any time? If you think for one moment I'll play into my brothers' schemes and perpetuate their pranks, you have got another thing coming!" he said, washing his hand with hotter water.

"Alright, alright--peace!" Fingon threw his arms up in surrender, walking to his husband and carefully wrapping his arms around him avoiding the stained areas. "Here-- let's find the cleaning supplies. Mineral turpentine, Russ-- it'll get whatever that is off you far more easily, and without stripping you of your skin." He jumped up to brush a kiss against Maedhros' brow. "I love you. And I have plans for those hands."

Maedhros grinned, and swiped at Fingon's nose with his blackened hand. " _That_ was for not trusting me," he grouched, and let Fingon lead him around the kitchen, checking all the cupboards until they finally found what Fingon was looking for. "I'm sure this will kill me," he said.

Fingon grabbed a cleaning cloth and poured a small amount of the fluid onto it, rubbing at his own nose before carefully cleaning Maedhros' hands and face. He squeezed his hands once and then stepped away. "Food?" he reminded his husband, opening the wine. "And I was _going_ to kiss you, but since you proved my fears correct I changed my mind."

Fingon rolled his eyes, pouring two glasses and walking across the kitchen with one. "Sorry, but it's true." He pressed himself against Maedhros' back, holding out a glass. "Wine?" He pressed his forehead against his husband's back, relaxing contentedly.

"What can I do to make it up to you?" Maedhros asked, instead of pointing out that Fingon had started it by not trusting him.

"Feed me," Fingon suggested. He nuzzled against Maedhros' back. "And when I _did_ trust you, you got me dirty! How long for the brie?"

"Yes. Well," Maedhros grumped. "Ten minutes?"

"Very well." Fingon stepped away and began poking about the kitchen, looking in cupboards and drawers to see how well stocked it was. Despite Maedhros' proclivity for cooking, he thought he should know his way around his own kitchen.

Maedhros grinned as he watched him, and after sliding the brie into the oven, slipped up behind Fingon, resting his head on his shoulder and wrapping his arms around him.

Fingon leaned back immediately, relishing the embrace. "'m supposed to be mad at you, aren't I?" He shrugged, then. "I'm not sure I can ever really be mad at you. Certainly never for long. This in incredible," he added, arm sweeping around the kitchen. "I can't wait to cook with you here. I'm so, so glad they made this for us, for you. It's perfect."

"For us," Maedhros said, kissing Fingon's neck. "I don't want you mad at me. Even pretend," he said solemnly, turning Fingon to face him and begging forgiveness with a kiss.

Never mad. Tyë melin. Fingon's eyes slipped shut as he relaxed into the kiss, leaning against Maedhros until the timer rang and the smell of melted cheese began to permeate the kitchen.

"May I serve you?" he asked playfully. "Shall we eat in here or on that lovely big table in the front? We should eat while it's hot," he added, having pulled the brie from the oven with an oven mitt. He was also miraculously wearing an apron, though the meal hardly required it. He liked to wear aprons. With his other hand he took the plate of bread and oil. "Would you grab the wine? Oh, there's the table here," he said, realizing that there was a small table by the window overlooking the waterfall.

"It's gorgeous," Fingon murmured, carrying the wineglasses over before making a second trip to grab the bottle. "It's… it's elegantly designed. It feels like we're wandering around a piece of art." He grinned, thinking that he couldn't wait to see the bedroom. And he couldn't wait to debauch Maedhros in every room of the house and crafting hall.

Catching a bit of that thought Maedhros shivered delightfully and grinned. He was anxious in the chair across from Fingon and quickly left it to kneel at his feet, between his legs, his arms and top half practically in Fingon's lap. "On second thought, you might have to feed me," he said, feeling much improved by their close proximity.

Fingon's pulse sped up, and he ran his hand through Maedhros' hair as he looked at him adoringly. "If you insist," he murmured, ripping a bite of bread and dipping it in the oil and then in the cheese sauce. He placed it directly into his husband's mouth with a smile. "How did it turn out?"

"Mm, good," Maedhros said once he chewed and swallowed. He gazed happily up at his husband, grateful for this moment together and not needing anything. "You should eat most of it, though."

Squeezing him lightly with his legs, Fingon took his own bit and moaned at the taste. "As always, perfect," he praised, cupping Maedhros' cheeks and leaning to kiss him before he returned to petting his hair. "Do you want another bite?"

"Not yet. I just want to watch you eat until you're sated," he said, wrapping his arms around Fingon's waist. "Then I'll have some."

“You’re too good to me. Thank you.” Fingon began eating for himself, quick bites of bread and cheese with small sips of his wine. When he had finished half of the prepared meal he offered another bite to Maedhros. “Do you want some wine, as well? You must be hungry and thirsty from the journey and our earlier exertions.”

"Oh, yes. I'll take my wine," Maedhros said. "Thanks," he added as Fingon handed it to him.  After a moment: "You're beautiful. You--this house--it...'matches' you. You look lovely in it, and it looks lovelier with you in it." He kissed the top of Fingon's thigh lovingly.

“Nothing can match your beauty, but…” Fingon smiled softly. “You looked so happy when you walked into the kitchen, when we entered the cellar. Do you know that I would give anything to see you smile like that each and every day for the rest of our lives.” He stole a sip from Maedhros’ glass before putting it back on the table and making himself another bite of brie.

Maedhros smiled shyly. "I shall try to look on you every day as if I have seen you for the first time, and you will see me smile thus," he said. "And we still have many rooms to go," he added wryly.

Fingon smiled brightly. “We do. We do indeed. Here- a few more bits, and shall we let the wine chill and continue our exploration?”

"Yes," Maedhros said, excitement thrilling through him. He opened his mouth. "One more big bite."

Fingon offered him a large bite before mopping up the last of the cheese with the final piece of bread and eating it himself. "Wonderful!" His stomach felt much more content. He drank the last of the glass of wine and offered Maedhros a hand to help him to his feet.

Standing, Maedhros looked around. The drawings didn't do the place justice. "Where do we go from here?" he asked. "There should be stairs leading down somewhere, right?"

"To the library already?" Fingon grinned. "I absolutely must have you there vennonya."

Maedhros blushed. "Well, I--" he had meant more to see the rest of the house, but he wasn't about to complain. "Let me get the oil--where are our bags?"

"By the door. I'm happy to keep exploring, Russ. I just thought you meant..." He shrugged, half-hard already. "I'm happy to so anything you want. I'm just very pleased. Very content."

Maedhros pulled Fingon close, feeling his arousal against his own. "We have all the time we need with our house. I'd much rather explore each other," he whispered, kissing him before fleeing to retrieve the oil.

Fingon stood in the room's center, waiting for Maedhros to return. "In that case," he said as he saw his husband return, library or bedroom? Should we save the bedroom for tonight?"

Maedhros grinned. "Library," he said. "Libraries already get me hot and bothered."

 

"I wonder why that could be." Fingon laughed and linked his arm with his husband's as they explored deeper in the house, trying to find their way down to the large library they had seen glimpses of from outside. "Tyë melin. With all my fëa."

"You tease," Maedhros said, kissing Fingon sloppily before pulling him along, slipping the oil into his pocket. "Come on. I think I saw the stairs this way...?"

"It's not teasing if I plan on following through," Fingon countered as Maedhros led them. "Our family really outdid themselves," he added, eyes wide as he followed the halls, the crystals, the tapestries and mosaics and art. "This is… we've only seen a little but I think this will prove to be everything I could want in a home." He squeezed Maedhros' hand.

"They did," Maedhros agreed, hugging him close. "Oh, here," he said, spotting a spiral staircase going down. "Would you like to go first?"

Fingon nodded and squeezed his hand. "I'm very excited to see it- I bet it will be beautiful. Huge and beautiful."

"Even if it is small and beautiful, I will love it," Maedhros smiled.

Fingon stopped and looked back at him. "You _will_ pay for that." He turned around and continued to descend. A number of ideas were already idly coming to mind, most of which involved a desperate, undone Maedhros trembling with desire and begging for release. He let a vague sense of them cross their bond.

“Wait—what?” Maedhros said, hurrying after him. “Hey, I didn’t mean—“ But from what he could pick up on, Fingon’s revenge sounded like something he didn’t want to miss. He followed him meekly down the steps, though he managed to forget his embarrassment and arousal as the room opened up on a wall of books. “Oh, my,” he said. “Grandfather—did grandfather _give_ us his geography collection?!” he squeaked.

Fingon stepped toward the shelf, awed, running his fingertips along the books; spines. “Beautiful,” he murmured, eyes bright. “This is…” spectacular, perfect, moving, “incredible.”

“He can’t have _given_ these to us!” Maedhros cried, casting about for a note, a card, or anything. There was a card on a small reading table, but all it said was “with love from your grandfather.” There were other books, too, from other family members, but the large selection of maps dwarfed them all.

“They’re likely copies, or he had copies made before,” Fingon murmured. His focus was almost entirely on the old leather bound tome he was flipping through. “Maybe it won’t be two hundred years-- perhaps we’d best allocate the next millennium to thanking people.”

“Agreed,” Maedhros breathed, looking around him with wonder. “Findekáno! When am I going to wake up and realize this is all a dream?” he laughed giddily, and again had to sit down. “I have so many good memories from our grandfather’s library,” he whispered, face flushed.

"When grandfather found out. And all the times we worked on mapping our valley and chronicling our adventures." Fingon grinned. "You seemed to particularly enjoy tormenting me in there- tell me, should I be thinking of doing the same to you for your comment on the stairs? You don't have to insult me for that, doll- you need only ask."

"I--wait! I didn't mean _that_!" Maedhros said, realizing what he meant and jumping to Fingon, taking his hands. "You are perfectly proportioned in every way! I meant the _library_ was small--if it was small, I mean--ah--and it's not, of course, as it turns out," he stammered.

"Digging, digging. You were looking past me as you said 'even if it was small and beautiful." Fingon gave him a dark look. "I only hope you were thinking of me in general and not my… endowments." He blushed, eyeing his husband.

"Neither!" Maedhros protested, though he clicked his mouth shut, afraid to dig himself any further, and squeezed Fingon's hands desperately.

Fingon stepped close, leaning so that his lips brushed against Maedhros' ear. "If you think that kind of half hearted excuse will get out of trouble you're sorely mistaken, arimeldanya. You may not have blatantly asked for it, but I listen to you very carefully." His tongue flicked out, tracing the lobe of Maedhros' ear before he stepped back. "Hmm… I wonder what other books they've stockpiled for us." He walked away, hips swaying slightly and appearing completely focused on the shelves, tables, and decorations. "Perhaps we should just wait for our bedroom to play? If you're so interested in this _large_ library."

Maedhros pressed his lips together, partly in shame, partly in embarrassment, but mostly so as to not make everything worse. He wasn't under the impression that he had actually offended Fingon, so he was not overly concerned--though he did very much wish to return to his good graces. He shook his head, slightly, not daring to speak.

“No answer?” Fingon made his way around a table and returned to Maedhros’ side, squeezing his hand. “Well then… let’s explore!” He tugged Maedhros forward, laughing as he ran about the room, slowing and pausing to examine book shelves, blank journals and papers, bookbinding materials, framed maps, sextants, compasses, and numerous other treasures. “This is horrible, Russandol-- how will I ever choose where to be? The library is incredible, the kitchen was spectacular, the crafting hall will doubtless be phenomenal, and I’m almost scared to see what they’ve done with our room…”

"W-we could go there," Maedhros blurted out. "To the bedroom." He fidgeted trying to ignore how much he was already aroused.

Fingon inhaled sharply and did his best to stamp down his own desire. “But you didn’t seem that interested at all,” he said sadly. “You wanted to visit the library and then said you _weren’t_ thinking of our…. history with libraries. And you insulted my nerhood. Maybe.” He picked up a book on the distant south. “Do you think we should ride south sometime to explore?”

Maedhros squirmed, reluctant to answer. "We could, later," he said, and followed and knelt at Fingon's feet. "But I desire you know. If you would punish me for my insult, unintended, you might deny me. But please let me at least, ah, take care of--your--ah--" Fingon's arousal was clear, and his stomach clenched in desire simply to see _him_ spend, to taste it.

“Russandol,” Fingon whispered. He ran his fingers through Maedhros’ hair and pressed forward gently so that his husband’s mouth pressed against his trousers. He huffed. “I’m loath to take my pleasure while denying you, beloved. And you must admit, you just told me a lovely way to punish you.” Nevertheless he pressed forward again once, thighs quivering as he felt his husband’s hot breath against him.

Maedhros took in a shaky breath, letting his mouth fall open and moaning softly as Fingon pressed against him. "I only want--I desire your pleasure," he gasped. "Please." He was _hungry_ for it. He suddenly felt as if he hadn't eaten all day.

“I should… we should wait,” Fingon whispered. “But I wanted to be with thee here, in our library and in our home.” He looked around and then patted Maedhros’ hair, stepping away. He glanced around and then tugged Maedhros a few steps over, close to the large, burled table in an open work area. “I would like to unclothe thee, meldanya. May I?”

His heart sunk at Fingon's distance, and then soared in delight at his words. "Yes. Please." He shot to his feet and approached.

Fingon took his time, slowly undoing ties and kissing each inch of skin as his husband was revealed to him. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered as he set the tunic aside. He knelt down before starting on his trousers and looked up to meet Maedhros’ gaze. “Everything else around me blurs and fades when I look at thee. And in my eyes thou shinest brighter than the stars.”

Maedhros shivered, as much at Fingon's words as at his own nakedness. "And thee in mine," he responded quietly.

Smiling up at him, Fingon finished removing his trousers. “Have I told thee how much I love thee today?” he asked. He leaned forward, licking up Maedhros shamelessly before he sat back. His love, desire, and pleasure flowed across their bond. He was never truly angry, but he was in a playful mood and willing to let Maedhros work for his ‘forgiveness’. His eyes danced.

Maedhros whimpered, hips canting forward. "But I want--you--" he panted

“But I want-- _you_ …” Fingon smiled up at him before standing, loosening his own tunic. “Strip me, darling? Don’t tease me too terribly, though. Just unclothe me.”

Maedhros nodded, breath catching as he deftly unlaced Fingon's tunic and trousers, removing them hastily but gently.

“Thank you,” Fingon whispered. “I…” he let out a soft breath, body shifting closer to his husband. “I want… I have plans.” He swallowed. “But first, will you take me within your mouth? Just for a little while?”

Maedhros nodded, kneeling, licking his lips and craning his neck to take Fingon in his mouth without the use of his hands. As he opened his throat and took him deeper, suckling gently at first, he moaned and met Fingon's eyes.

“Vennonya.” Fingon sighed. “I love thee,” he whispered. “You… I can barely think when you do this.” He pet Maedhros’ hair, moaning softly and staring down with wide eyes. “Beautiful,” he whispered. “Stunning. And perfect.” Finally, with a groan, Fingon tugged lightly at his hair. “Stand up, love.”

Maedhros whined, brow furrowing. "I wasn't done," he said, but stood obediently.

Fingon leaned forward and kiss him slowly, deeply. He tasted himself with a groan, and pressed himself close, his arousal sliding against Maedhros’. “Do you know what I’m thinking of doing with you?” he asked. “Do you know what I have planned for your words earlier?"

"I--no," Maedhros said, shivering with anticipation and nervousness. "What?" he asked dumbly.

After another long kiss, more to sooth Fingon’s own desire, he took Maedhros’ shoulders in hand and guided him back until he rested against the edge of a bookshelf. “Do you remember what you did to me in grandfather’s library right after I had you under the table?” He grinned wickedly, sliding his hand down to take Maedhros’ hand in his own and placing it against his cousin’s arousal. “Pleasure yourself for me, my doll. I would see thee flushed and trembling with need before me.”

Maedhros did remember, and he flushed with embarrassment. His breath hitched as he held himself, looking worriedly to Fingon before proceeding. "Ah, I--I may have some idea," he said, stroking himself sloppily.

“Don’t finish until I tell you that you may. Alright?” Fingon ran a fingertip across his head and then avoided his desire entirely, instead simply watching as Maedhros performed for me.

Breathing coming in ragged gasps already, Maedhros nodded and gave a better effort, hand twisting the way he liked it. Very soon he felt himself able to crest if Fingon let him or demanded it. "Ah. Close," he said, though he did not still his hand.

“A little closer. You are a work of art, darling.” Fingon’s eyes flickered between his husband’s face and where his hand was working. “Good.” He reached out and touched Maedhros’ wrist. “Stop. That was good. Now, calm down. Deep breaths. I think I saw a water jug, do you want me to get you a drink or are you well?”

Maedhros swallowed, eyes on Fingon's sex. "Mm," he said, and swallowed again. "Yes? Please," he said, meeting his gaze.

 

Fingon leaned close enough that they’re breath mingled though their lips did not brush. “Stay here. You’re doing so very well, arimeldanya. I’ll be right back.” He squeezed Maedhros’ wrist lightly and turned, walking away with a small sway to his steps. He returned shortly with the water and a crystal glass which he filled and sipped from before holding it to Maedhros’ lips.

Maedhros drank greedily, surprised at his sudden thirst. "Thank you," he gasped, eyes drawn downward again. "Um. May I--?" he reached toward, but did not touch, Fingon's prominent arousal.

“Later.” Fingon shook his head and waved his hand away. “It doesn’t matter. I can wait. But if you’re thinking this clearly, I think it may be time for you to start again. Will you preset yourself to me, Russ? Perform for me?”

Maedhros huffed, trying not to let himself be as frustrated as he felt by Fingon's denial. This was worse--probably--than being denied his own pleasure, but he started up again, stroking himself firmly with one hand while the other reached between his legs to fondle his sac. He cleared his throat with an idea, but did not dare look up. "Would you--could I--would you like to watch me, em, prepare myself--for--you?"

Fingon considered, reaching forward to caress the back of Maedhros’ head. “That sounds like a lovely idea. But I want you close enough to finish one more time before you try that. Come on, darling- I want you shaking with desire.” He removed his hand and studied his husband. “Would you like me to tell you what you look like right now? The crystals’ light forms a soft glow around your hair, which almost looks like it has molten fire running through it. You’re starting to sweat a little, and it only adds to the warm golden glow of your skin. You shine, darling. And you look so beautiful as focused as you are. Your hand in firm and strong and sure-- you know what you are doing, and what you want. And your hröa speaks of hard work in the forge and sparring, riding and adventuring. And when you bite your lip like that’s it’s all I can do not to rush into your arms and have you, or give myself to you, here and now.”

Maedhros nervously tried to not bite his lip as Fingon pointed this out, but then he smiled. Returning to work one-handed, he sucked a finger into his mouth. I want you to watch me prepare myself for you. I want to shake with need and whine, and let you hear me make these secret noises. I want your hand in my hair and your praise hot on the back of my neck while you watch me. And your direction, telling me to spread my legs or tilt my head back. Wholly yours, he promised.

“Faster,” Fingon choked. His hand strayed to his own arousal before he forced it away, holding his other arm instead. “How close are you, darling? Are you almost ready again? If I were to order you to spend?”

"I c-could," Maedhros stammered, "yes, any second. M-may I?" he asked, knowing it was a long shot.

Maedhros shivered, holding his breath to try to calm himself, but that only made him dizzy. "P-please?" he asked, squeezing Fingon's hands in return.

"As you wish." Fingon tilted his head and peppered his cheek and jaw with kisses until he nuzzle against Maedhros' neck. You refused to touch me when we did this, remember? But I don't want to keep from touching you. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Alright. On the table, now. You're going to open yourself up for me, remember?"

I'm sorry, he whispered across their bond, feeling as though his cruelty had known no bounds. His heart soared at Fingon's touches and kisses, for he felt totally undeserving of them. "H-how do you--want me?" he asked, trying to make himself appear small as he moved to the table.

Russ. The thought traveled between them as a small sigh as Fingon stepped close, embracing him from behind as Maedhros was about to clamber up. "I enjoyed _everything_ we did together. I love thee. And it was hard- sorry- difficult, but I _wanted_ to please you, to make you proud. And the way you watched me, knowing I was performing for you- it was very... Arousing." He shrugged, brushing his lips against Maedhros' nape. "Are you ready to perform for me? To show off how stunningly beautiful you are?"

Maedhros shivered as he nodded. "I liked to watch you," he mumbled, half-ashamed. "I'm ready." He crawled up on the table onto his hands and knees and sucked on his finger again to wet it.

Fingon rested a hip against the table as he watched his husband. He pet Maedhros' head with one hand while the other played with the pendant his husband had given him. Then please-- I would watch thee. Continue, arimeldanya."

Maedhros reared up, balancing with one hand while with the other he reached behind him and pressed a spit-slicked and warm finger inside him. The first didn't hurt but the second, less wet, did a bit, but he gave no sign. "Like--uh--this?" he asked.

Fingon wet his lips, swallowing roughly. "Ah... The oil. You brought down-" he spied the bottle on a table close to the stairs and, with a last, long look, walked away to grab it. He set in directly before Maedhros and circled the table completely. "Only you, my Russandol," he murmured. "Another finger? Are you ready? You can use the oil, vennonya."

"A-almost," Maedhros ground out, oiling his fingers before pressing them back into him. It was much better this time, and he felt almost as if he preferred something in him than being empty. This was probably a bad sign. His sex bobbed hard against his stomach and he felt ridiculous like this, but Fingon liked it, and if Fingon liked it Fingon might fuck him, and he wanted that so very much, so he continued, slipping the third finger in and stretching himself with only a few sharp breaths.

"Valar, Russ," Fingon groaned. His own hand squeezed the edge of the table tightly as his eyes wandered over Maedhros' hroa. He sounded almost pained as he continued, "I could watch you like this for _hours_."

Maedhros tried not to squeak as he imagined Fingon doing this to him all night, but he put his head down, panting as he probed himself. He avoided the spot inside him that had him seeing stars. He was already blind with them.

"Russ," Fingon moaned. He leaned heavily against the table, cheeks flushed and panting. "Beautiful. Mine and… heart stoppingly beautiful. How do you feel, arimelda? May I look?" Are you close, he added silently. I want to see you finish, darling. I want you to proudly spend across the table while I watch you.

"But," Maedhros protested. He was dizzy with the need to finish, but where was Fingon's pleasure in this? He balked, drawing his fingers out and turning to face Fingon, unsure.

Fingon let go with one hand and mimicked the gesture of running a hand along Maedhros' cheek, though he kept the briefest space between them the entire time. "I wish to see you spend. And then, if you are willing my beloved, I would have thee." He looked at Maedhros with a crooked smile. But if you're not sure, or if you don't want that, just say and we can join now. I wish to be with thee-- any way you are willing.

Maedhros flushed. He wasn't being very obedient, and here Fingon was giving him every possible out. I want what you want, he promised Fingon, his words across their bond sacred. He presses his fingers deep inside him and "Like this?" he gasped. "You want me to come just like this? Untouched?"

"Please," Fingon whispered. "Come for me Maedhros. Finish untouched. And paint the table as far as you can." He looked at Maedhros, flushed and with dilated eyes. He half fell against the table as waves of his husband's pleasure passed across their bond. Valar, Russ, _please_.

Maedhros finished on command this time, painting his chin and the table past his head. He had arched awkwardly to reach that spot, and finished silently, and then he was nearly ready to collapse.

"Russandol!" Fingon was clambering onto the table immediately, pouring oil over himself and removing Maedhros' hand. He was buried in his husband before he finished spasming, and let out a low moan as he sank fully within. "Love you," he whispered. "Valar-- so good, Russ. I'll never tire of this, never not need this." He fell silent as he began to move within his husband, except for sighs and quiet whimpers when Maedhros moved against him.

Bewildered and sated and weak from his orgasm, Maedhros almost fell forward, Fingon entered him with such force. And then everything was clear and good and complete where nothing was before, and he sighed, the sight burn nothing in the face of Fingon coming home. This was better than orgasm. "Ohh thank you," he whispered, dropping his head onto his arms.

Fingon smiled, high on Maedhros' pleasure and contentedness, and he began to mouth at his husband's neck. He curled over Maedhros and raised a line of marks against his neck, continuing to move within him. He had been fully aroused just watching Maedhros and now he was quickly moving toward completion. Like his husband, however, what he felt at the moment was not entirely tied to his arousal. This felt like coming home, joining together hröar and fear as closely as possible; Fingon's eyes watered at the power and sacredness of the feeling.

"Thank you, thank you," Maedhros continued, sighing and rocking. "Love you, love you, thank you, feels good. So good." He felt he could come again like this. He hissed in pleasure at every bite on his neck, sending sparks through him.

"Wonderful," Fingon agreed quietly. He raised a hand to tug at Maedhros' hair, turning his head far enough to kiss him. Fingon's eyes slipped shut and he moaned into his husband's mouth. Perfect. Love you more. love you more than anything. He moved his hand back down and then shifted to grasp his husband as he filled again with desire. He stroked slowly. "Already?" Fingon said with a moan. Are you going to come for me again, Russ? Finish with me, on my command? Are you ready to do that?

Maedhros nodded breathlessly, whole body shaking. Yes please. Ready. Findekáno, I love you.

"Good. Thank you." Perfect love you thank you for giving us this. Fingon quickened his movements, hips rolling into Maedhros hard enough to shift his husband forward each time. "Good. Now-- a kiss-- I want a kiss, love. Then we can finish. Then I'll spend within you. Please." He curled tighter against Maedhros' spine and craned his neck. Please kiss me arimeldanya Maitimo Russandol. And spend with me, my Russ. My perfect one. Vennonya. I love thee, I want thee, and I need thee.

Maedhros felt warm and small and protected and safe and loved. He kissed Fingon as if for the first time, moaning obscenely until it trailed off into a whine. Close he was close he was there he was home. "Findekáno!" he shrieked and finished, clamping down around Fingon.

Fingon sobbed, shaking behind him and against him as he followed Maedhros over the end. "Russandol!" He shouted the bane and screamed it within his mind as he felt Maedhros tighten around him. So good, so perfect, Russ, Russ, Russ… His thoughts were disconnected and he could think of nothing but his husband until he finished.

Maedhros fell flat on the table, gasping for breath. "Oh, Fin," he sobbed, too. It was beautiful. He felt beautiful. Perfect. "Thank you." Fingon felt like a warm blanket over him.

“You are most welcome, venno,” Fingon said sleepily. He yawned and settled against Maedhros. “I should be thanking _you_. You are beautiful and brilliant and… thank you for playing with me. After all, we have to keep up our library tradition!”

Maedhros snorted. "Our tradition," he laughed goofily. "Thank _you_ ," he repeated. "I love you." Fingon's warmth and love seeped into his core.

“Mhmm. Inyë tyë-mela.” Fingon nodded against Maedhros’ back, sprawling across him contentedly. “Where do you want to go next? Or will you want to stay in the library for a while? We have all the other rooms, the crafting hall… I think we should save the bedroom for tonight, if you agree? And perhaps leave exploring the area outside for another day?” It would probably take days of exploring to get through the valley and the hilly region surrounding it for a decent distance in each direction.

"I would, ah, like to get cleaned up first I think," Maedhros said. He was comfortable now but he didn't necessarily want his seed sticking him to the table. And yet he didn't want to move. "And then I'll go wherever you'd like. Just--hold me a bit longer?"

"I'll hold you as long as you'd like," Fingon offered. He yawned again, nuzzling at Maedhros before relaxing his head. "Then we can wash off in one of the guest rooms and I can grab supplies to clean off the table, since I encouraged you to get it messy." He pressed a soft kiss to Maedhros' shoulder. "Thank you so much, vennonya. You are... you are wonderful to me. And all I could ever want in a husband or friend."

Maedhros liked the feeling of Fingon's voice vibrating through his chest until the very wood sang with it. He was silent himself, so as not to disrupt the vibrations in the wooden desk. He was sure the rhythm set his heart at ease and was a rhythm his heart yearned to follow. "Would you talk to me, please?" he asked before he could stop himself. "Just anything. I like the sound your voice makes. And I like--" he added, realizing this was a non sequitur and trying to remedy: "I like when you take me under your control. You know I'd be happy giving my will to you for a thousand years?"

"As I to you, my husband," Fingon said lowly. He felt his voice rumble through Maedhros and smiled. "Do you wish to hear how indescribably happy I am to be here with you? How you make me tremble and make my heart beat fast? I would tell you how pleased I am to be here, how astounded and amazed I am with our house. And how it reminds me how very much I love our family, for I know much thought went into each part of our new home. And grandfather's books! This room is spectacular. I can imagine spending long evenings sitting here reading and sketching and writing. It feels… it feels as much like home as father's house and uncle's house and grandfather's main house do." He grinned, kissing up Maedhros' shoulder lazily. "Or do you want to hear more about how very much I love my husband? How he is still, as he ever was, my hero and my one love… how honored and grateful I am to have his love in return." Fingon sighed, and shifted his arms so that he was half-hugging Maedhros. "I love thee," he whispered. "In the end, I suppose those are the only words that matter. I am wholly yours, Russandol, and I love thee with all that I was, am, and ever shall be."

Maedhros felt tears sting at his eyes art Fingon's sweet words, and even at how his words felt. He could almost, he guessed, understand the words through feeling, without hearing. "And I am yours," Maedhros whispered. "Thank you. I don't think we can thank our family enough. I don't think I can think you enough." He took a deep breath, lifting Fingon slightly.

Fingon giggled. "Do that again?" Maedhros could lift him effortlessly. "You feel good." Fingon was slowly slipping out of his husband, and moaned softly in protest though the rest of him was comfortable, warm, and very pleased.

Maedhros took a few deep breaths, lifting Fingon slightly with each. He whined as Fingon's body left his, and now it was all the more important that they did not come apart. "Finno," he whispered urgently.

"What would you have of me?" Fingon's breath teased the juncture of his husband's shoulder and neck as he spoke. "Name anything."

"I would not dare ask anything of you beyond what you've given me," Maedhros said, blushing hard. "But since you ask me to name it I would have your touch always, whenever you can give it. Especially today. I can do without it only as I can live without breath, and every second without a brush of your hand or lips is like plunging beneath cold water: I can stand it for only so long."

"Anything you desire. Besides, that would be my pleasure, too." Fingon nuzzled against him. "My hröa is at thy service, and for thy service." He squeezed his husband gently. "We can cook together, and you can sit on the counter while I clean. Will that please thee? And we can hold hands while we explore the house. I think we'll have to find a guest room to shower, if we want to save our room for tonight. And… after dinner, we can set up a fire, read a little more of Irissë's book, and… well… I'm sure we'll come up with plans for the evening." He was quiet for a minute, and then added, "do you think we can find a way to the top of the cliff? I bet there's a way all the way up somewhere in here."

"Yes!" Maedhros said excitedly, energy returning. "I think I saw a balcony riding up. And there was a sink at least in the front room." He made a move to get up, but waited until Fingon got off him first.

Fingon groaned, but he rolled off, sliding to the edge of the table and standing. He kept one hand on Maedhros and aided his cousin as he stood. Afterward Fingon leaned against him, holding him close. "I love thee," he whispered against his husband's neck. "Um… shower now?"

"Or just a towel off," Maedhros said, looking at the table with disdain if not quite disgust. He took Fingon's hand in his.

"I'll clean the table-- don't worry about it." Fingon scratched the back of his neck. "I just need to find the cleaning supplies. And to clean us- towel, or shower, we'll need to go find a towel or a shower." He grinned. "It can be an adventure."

"I promise you I saw one in the front room. By the door," Maedhros said, pulling him back up the spiral stairs.

"Alright; that sounds like a good place to start. I wonder if someone thought to include a map of this house." Fingon squeezed his husband's hand, content to be led.

Maedhros giggled. "I don't think it's that big," he laughed. In the small washroom (there was a corner shower and toilet and sink) they toweled off, and Maedhros wet a towel to wash the table with.

Fingon shook his head. He tied his hair high on his head so that his neck and back were free and stepped into the corner shower. "Mmm. I'm already imagining what our bath will be like," he moaned happily. He enjoyed the water and put on a small show for his husband, carefully cleaning his stomach, hips, thighs and arousal with soap slicked hands. "And who knows- the house may be comprehensible… but we don't know how far into the cliff it goes. Or what secret pathways have been added- I still fear spending hundreds of years searching them out. And worse, I fear taking a moment for ourselves and suddenly having Ambarussa or Turko or Irissë or any of the others popping out of a, a tapestry or a bookcase or a dresser or closet or corner or anything else they've converted into a secret entrance."

Maedhros wasn't really listening, but was instead watching the suds run down Fingon's body like his hands should be. "Fin, wait," he begged, stepping under the spray and back to Fingon's arms where he belonged.

Sliding his arms around Maedhros with a sigh, Fingon pressed close. His skin, still soapy along the front of his body, slipped against Maedhros until they held each other close. "Just washing," he said quietly. "But my hröa is yours to do with as you please. Will you help me clean up, melda?" Fingon smiled up at him, meeting Maedhros' gaze happily.

Maedhros' heart soared at Fingon's smile, and he returned it. "I want only to worship it," he said, dipping his head into a kiss. "I love you so. I want to--may I have you in here, under the like water like this? I promise to clean you so lovingly afterward. Please?"

"Please," Fingon whispered softly. Always, I am yours. He rocked forward against Maedhros slowly, contentedly, and offered his lips for another kiss. "Tyë melin. And I desire you."

"And I you. Okay," Maedhros huffed, not believing his luck or his arousal, "give me your leg," he said, hooking it up around his arm, fingers sliding wet and soapy over Fingon's sex and between his legs. He was still soft and open, but he soaped his fingers to make sure. "Love you, love you so much. I'm so lucky. Tyë melin."

"Love you too," Fingon whimpered. He clung to Maedhros feeling unbalanced and dizzy as his husband began to open him and play with his hröa. "Feels good. Thank you- want you in me." He leaned forward, resting his head on Maedhros' shoulder. He shivered and did his best to relax in his husband's arms.

Maedhros continued to press and pet his beloved, holding him close under the spray of warm water where they closed their eyes and kissed each other blindly. Maedhros stretched him gently, practically lifting him off the ground. "Love you," he whispered. "Need you. Want to be inside you." He couldn't believe he needed to come again.

Fingon felt off kilter, as though he were clinging to and supported by the one stable thing in the world. "Russ," he whimpered. He had been comfortable and sated but now… he _needed_ Maedhros and the fingers teasing at him softly weren't enough. "Please. Please will you fill me?" He looked up at his husband, his look begging.

"Mm, I think you can beg better than that," he teased, but slicked himself with soap anyway while his fingers continued to probe. He slicked Fingon's cock as well and stroked him, petting him to bring him closer to the edge before that hand traveled up his wet body to close around his lovely neck. "Going to take you now. Kiss me," he demanded, stealing Fingon's breath as he breached him.

Maitimo, vennonya please! Fingon moaned, head tilted up and lips opening willingly. I love thee, he whispered. I love thee. Please fill me? Please take me and claim me as your own? He focused on the feeling of his pendent pressed between their chests and slid one hand back to cup the hand around his neck. He shivered as his fingers found the ring he had placed on his husband's finger. _My_ husband, he added possessively. As I am yours, you are mine. So as I had you just a few minutes ago, _have me_.

A tremble went through Maedhros as he pressed inside, the possessiveness coming together with being himself possessed, and it felt so good. "Finno," he gasped, breaking the kiss before he wanted, and then greedily pressing into his mouth for more. _Love you_ he said, nearly demanded. _Yours as you are mine_. He was now home, having sheathed himself fully, and he held it for a second, letting Fingon get used to the sensation, before beginning to move.

"Love you," Fingon whimpered, head craning to maintain contact with Maedhros' lips. Squeeze? he pleaded, wanting a firmer pressure along his neck. Fingon's hands slipped back around Maedhros, clinging to him. He tightened around his husband, back arching and eyes focusing dazedly on Maedhros, wanting to see his husband react.

"Fuck," Maedhros swore, eyes closing in painpleasure and squeezing probably tighter than was strictly necessary--about as tight as it felt to be squeezed by Fingon at his most vulnerable. "Love you." The rush of adrenaline kicked in, and he growled: "Want to hear you squeak and beg for mercy and for more. I love you, fuck, I want to hurt you and comfort you after. Like I want you to wreck me."

Fingon whined, choking in strangled breaths. Russandol! The name raced across their bond worshipfully, adoringly. Please, please, please, please, please. He tried to clamp down even further, holding Maedhros in a vice like grip and circling his hips in a tiny, swiveling movement. Oh, Valar, beloved. My dearest. Feels… so good, Russandol. Yes, want that. Want everything for you.

That was all the encouragement Maedhros needed, and, snarling, he slid Fingon up the tiled wall at three points--the hand under his leg, the hand on his throat, and where Fingon was speared on his cock--until the toes on one foot were scraping the floor. "Then stop wriggling and let me fuck you!" he said, and pounded into him, changing his angle until he found the spot that made Fingon shudder and his eyes roll back, and he kissed him until they both were breathless.

"Russsss!" Fingon's eyes were watering and he shuddered and writhed where Maedhros had him pinned. Too much, more, please! He tried to clamp down as Maedhros had entered him fully, doing his best to drive his husband just as undone with desire as he was. Please, please, please! He trembled and silently swore than he would find a way to make his husband feel just as he felt now, owned and possessed and needy and torn between too much and not enough as he walked the knife's edge where they met.

"Mine," Maedhros growled, licking his jaw and breathing hot into his ear. "Mine, as I am yours. Only you can do this to me. Only you can make me feel like this. Like I can't turn it off and I don't have to." His hips pistoned in and out of Fingon's body roughly, quickly. "Want you to come for me, baby, want to feel how much you like this." He bit Fingon's ear and shifted the leg he held even higher.

"Please- now, may I now?" Fingon's fingers clawed at his husband's back. "Ready. Pl _ease_ , Russ! Close." Already, and how were they already? Or had time passed without his realizing it. Fingon shook off the thought, unable to care at the moment. "Never have to. Love this. Want all of you, Russandol, my melda Maitimo. Always. Tenn' ambar metta."

"Then don't make me tell you again," Maedhros hissed, moving his thumb so he could bite Fingon's neck, and squeezed him tight enough to prevent speech. "Come _now_!" he shouted, and slammed into Fingon, whose foot now dangled off the ground.

Fingon screamed his throat raw as he spent, shuddering in his husband's arms. His foot kicked uselessly against the wall and air while his hand clawed up Maedhros' back and wrapped around his neck tightly as he tried to stabilize himself. "Russandol. Russ, Russ, Russ, Russ, Russ… can't. Please. Please need you to- to finish in me. Please. Now." He gasped out the plea, slumping forward against his husband.

He was already spending, grunting unattractively through his orgasm as Fingon squeaked and jerked in his arms. Immediately his holds loosened, and as the spell left him he cradled Fingon in his arms, his own muscles shaking as he gentled his husband. "All right, all right? Okay?" he asked softly, kissing him. They slid to the floor together and Maedhros pulled him into his lap, checking him over for injury and just letting him breathe unobstructed, shielding him from the spray.

Fingon slumped, relaxing completely against the tile. He lifted one hand to stroked Maedhros' hair as he nodded, before letting that fall limply to the floor as well. "Good," he murmured roughly. "Tired. Not ready to move. But much better than okay. You?"

"Good," Maedhros answered, "and worried. You sure I didn't hurt you? I was only talking, you know," he explained. "Heat of the moment. Don't really want to hurt you, not _bad_ ," he said quickly, ashamed of his outburst. He held Fingon in his lap and stroked his hair and his back, tucking his head under his chin and turning down the water to a relaxing trickle. "Love you." Maedhros kissed Fingon's temple. "Want to hold you like this." Limp and sated and gasping and _happy_.

"Tyë melin, Russ. You are my fee's other half. And your desire are my own." Fingon straightened enough to press their lips together, arms hanging about Maedhros' neck. "Just take care of me now. I loved everything we did, and I want to hear you speak your desires aloud. It is… it is very moving. And it pleases me greatly and fills me with a desire for those same things." He flushed further and tucked himself back against Maedhros' chest. "I like how you can just hold me up effortlessly and ride me while I'm touching nothing but you and the wall against my back." He hugged Maedhros loosely, too relaxed and worn out to hold him tighter. Love you."

Maedhros smiled, flushing himself, glad that Fingon wasn't as ashamed of his desires as he was. "Still," he said, "I shouldn't hurt you. Going to look after you now," he said, turning Fingon in his arms, still cradling him, but so he could inspect his entrance for any damage. The worst he found was a red mark on his shoulder blade from where he'd pushed him up the wall that he thought might bruise, and he kissed it carefully. "You undo me totally," he explained. "And I'm sorry I say things and--do them--without really thinking. You'd let me know if I did really hurt you?" he asked, his mind involuntarily remembering that night he tried the chasing game and only _hurt_ Fingon, and flinched away from the memory as if in physical pain. "I just love you too much, I think. Sometimes. And I'm--not--careful. I--" he shook himself, and straightened, and squeezed Fingon carefully. "But I'm going to take care of you now. And always. Going to take care of you. Tyë melin. Tenn' ambar metta."

Fingon held Maedhros silently, unsure how to reassure his cousin except by being close and holding him and opening their bond to show him as much love and happiness as he could. Love you. Loved this. And you didn't hurt me, Russ. I'm not made of glass. I didn't break. It was… it was good. Thank you. Loved it. Love you. Love you always. My perfect Russ, smart Russ, strong Russ. Vanya melda Maitimo. Arimeldanya. I know you'll take good care of me. I want you to, beloved. And I want to take care of you also and to please you and sate you-- to get you to relax and to make you smile.

Maedhros felt better at this, warmed by Fingon's love and trust and warmth, though he blushed now at his worry, and blushing at Fingon's praise. Thank you, he breathed across their bond, kissing Fingon gently and touching him, massaging him and holding him. You are so beautiful toward me. Thank you. I love you. Tyë melin, tenn ambar metta.

"Tenn' amber metta," Fingon repeated dutifully. He shifted, snuggling against Maedhros before resettling. I like this as much as… well, the more active parts. I like opening our bond and just being with you, existing as close two one as two Eldar can be. He squeezed his husband briefly. Thank you. It was one of his favorite feelings and as much pain as he had been in after their chasing game by the lake, he could not regret what had happened because when they both focused fully on opening each side of the bond and sharing, the experience had been profound. It was not something he would willingly give up, and it was a state he fervently hoped they would reach again on their trip.

Maedhros snuggled him close, and only once their skin grew pruny did he turn off the spray and reach for towels. They were fresh and warm, and he toweled Fingon off gingerly before lifting and carrying him bodily to their bags, where he applied a salve to Fingon's tender parts and helped him dress. "All right?" he said. "Thirsty? I confess I could use a drink after all of that. May I carry you to the kitchen?"

“I’d like that. Perhaps some water with lemon?” he suggested, throat a little raw. “And with a dab of honey.” Fingon held out his arms and laughed as Maedhros swung him up. He leaned into his husband and let Maedhros carry him bridle style until they reached the kitchen.

"Can you sit?" Maedhros asked. "I could heat water and we could have tea if your throat is really sore." He put his hand there, gently now where before he had been rough, seeking to warm and soothe the area.

“Sitting’s good. And tea. Can you set me on the counter? Unless that space is too sacred,” he added with a grin.

Maedhros snorted, nipping Fingon's ear as he set him on the counter. Anyway, they were both fully clothed, and decidedly tired now, so he doubted much more would happen between them this evening. Probably. He kissed Fingon before heating water on the stove and rummaging for tea and lemons and honey. "Do you remember when I would make this for you after a cold day playing in the snow? When you didn't demand hot chocolate that is," he teased.

“Tea, hot chocolate--” Fingon shrugged, “you still make the best food and the best drinks.” He grinned. “And I do remember. You’d help create snow sculptures and dress them like mother and father, aunt and uncle and all our siblings. And sometimes we would even make grandfather with a crown woven of golden twigs.” His eyes closed for a moment and his expression turned fond as he was called back to a long ago day. When he opened his eyes Maedhros was watching him and he smiled beautifully.

"It makes me happy that you remember," Maedhros said. "I could never forget, but you were young." He stepped close, to be in Fingon's arms and to wrap his around him. He could not stop smiling and staring into his eyes. "I love you, Findekáno. I am so happy." He pulled Fingon into a close hug and listened to his heart beat until the water boiled.

Fingon’s legs bounced as he watched Maedhros turn to take the tea off the water and prepare their glasses. “They’re some of my dearest memories. And I am extremely happy as well. Is there anything you need, Russ?” Fingon wasn’t sure what else his cousin would need, or how much help he could be in a new kitchen, but if Maedhros requested his assistance he would at least try.

Maedhros shook his head, and smiled as he returned with a mug for each of them. "Take this, say thank you, drink it, and be happy, is all I ask." He kissed Fingon's cheek and leaned against him as he sipped his drink, glad just to touch and nuzzle him. "Now what were your plans for us this evening, again? Exploring holding hands, and cooking and cleaning together, and after dinner reading together? Do you still want that? Because I do. I would even carry you if you do not feel you could walk."

Fingon leaned up, pulling Maedhros down with his free hand so that he could press their lips together again in a closed mouthed, lingering kiss. "Thank you," he whispered, looking at his husband. "I want all of that. Tomorrow or the next day we should unpack and get our sketches and notes into the library-- maybe work a little on putting them together in some sensical format. But for tonight... everything you listed sounds perfect. Ooh, and perhaps before bed or in the morning, depending on how the day goes, we can discover what kind of glorious sunken pool of a bath the house contains." He could not help his grin, or the direction his thoughts took for a moment. "Did you want to keep reading Irissë's book?" he asked, getting back on topic. "Or we can choose another one. But I'd very much like to read to you and listen to you reading."

"Don't tell her I said this, but I very much like Irissë's book," Maedhros giggled, touching their brows together, "for all that it's inappropriate for someone of her age to be reading and recommending. But yes. And I suppose the bath will depend on how clean we stay the rest of the day?" he laughed, sipping his tea. "What would you like for supper? I could put a stew on now to be ready whenever we're hungry."

"Don't tell her I said this, but I very much like Irissë's book," Maedhros giggled, touching their brows together, "for all that it's inappropriate for someone of her age to be reading and recommending. But yes. And I suppose the bath will depend on how clean we stay the rest of the day?" he laughed, sipping his tea. "What would you like for supper? I could put a stew on now to be ready whenever we're hungry."

"Don't tell her I said this, but I very much like Irissë's book," Maedhros giggled, touching their brows together, "for all that it's inappropriate for someone of her age to be reading and recommending. But yes. And I suppose the bath will depend on how clean we stay the rest of the day?" he laughed, sipping his tea. "What would you like for supper? I could put a stew on now to be ready whenever we're hungry."

"He's not that bad," Fingon said with a laugh. "And when he does seem impossible Irissë's usually encouraging him." He was reminded of their story of just how Turko ended up shooting him in the back and sighed. "I wouldn't change them, though. And they really have been wonderful to us."

Maedhros tried not to smile. "Yes, of course they have," he said, and kissed Fingon thank-you for the reminder. When all the ingredients were in the pot, Maedhros turned down the heat, covered it, and scooped Fingon off the counter, spinning him and kissing him. "Now where shall we go, dearest?"

"Do you want to find a way up to the top of the hill? We could see more of the area we live in." He shrugged, holding Maedhros tightly and looked up at him. "I'd be happy just snuggling in front of a fire with you."

"Well I'd like to see more of the house--if you don't mind? I mean, I did see that balcony? And maybe there's a way up from the outside," he said.

Fingon nodded agreeably. "I'd like to see all of it- I'm so excited Russ! Our home... I won't get tired of saying that." He leaned up, kissing him gently.

"Nor will I," Maedhros smiled, and stepping back from Fingon, he took his hand and bowed low. "Now--my husband!--would you join me in exploring _our home_?"

Fingon nodded, squeezing his husband's fingers. "It would be my pleasure, beloved husband." He grinned. "A kiss and I shall follow you anywhere."

Maedhros kissed his hand gallantly, and then kissed his lips. "Down the stairs again? I think we've debauched enough rooms here, and it's time to proceed further," he laughed, leading Fingon to the stairs.

"Alright." Fingon laughed, letting Maedhros tug him along. "Anything you wish." He continued laughing as they spun down the stairs. "How long do you think until the stew is ready?"

"A few hours," Maedhros said, "and it can sit longer if we want it to. Why?" he asked, with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he walked down the stairs backwards so as to not have to look away from Fingon.

"Just wondering." Fingon shrugged. "We'll probably be hungry in the next couple of hours. We were quite energetic." He tilted his head and smiled at Maedhros. "We might be even more energetic."

"We might. We'd better. I'm going to get hungry again very soon, I can tell." He tugged Fingon off at the landing with the library to explore. "Oh!" he said, opening the glass doors onto a balcony and stepping out: "Look, Finno! There's a balcony at every floor! And more stairs going up and down!"

"Up then, if you're willing? I'd like to see the top first." Fingon danced ahead, staring out across the valley. "It's wonderful, Russandol. It's perfect. I can't imagine changing a thing."

"Neither can I," Maedhros said, chasing Fingon up the wrought-iron stairs, sticking close to him protectively. It was a _very_ long drop if they fell, so they would have to be certain none of the children came near the area. "Breathtaking, isn't it?" he asked, as they stopped to look down between their feet. "It's like climbing our peak, but with rails."

"I'm not sure that in my heart anything will compare to our peak and our valley, but it _is_ spectacular. And it will be home." Fingon leaned against Maedhros' side contentedly. "Thank you for making my life the stuff of dreams, vennonya, my arimelda Maitimo."

"Arimeldanya," Maedhros breathed, leaning in to demand a kiss, and nudging Fingon up the last of the stairs to a large deck overlooking the cliff. "No, it will never be like our peak and our valley in my heart. But it's not bad," he said, looking over the view and wrapping his arms around Fingon. Not bad was of course, an understatement. It was beautiful. The rocks shone in multiple colors, and the grass was green on top, and there were some young trees dotting the landscape that they would get to watch grow up. It brought tears to his eyes, and he pressed them into Fingon's hair.

"I love thee," Fingon whispered. He pressed back into Maedhros and closed his eyes, listening to the wind through the valley and the flowing water. He felt entirely at peace, and opened the bond, joyfully sharing the feeling with his husband. He looked at the wild brambles further out happily. "I bet there are some raspberry bushes and blackberry bushes in there! And somewhere in these hills surely there are caves enough to satisfy Ingoldo."

"Yes. And living on the edge of a cliff will thrill the Ambarussa," he grumbled. "We'll just have to be careful. Because it is beautiful, and I would not change a thing." He kissed the top of Fingon's head.

"They're not quite as bad as they used to be… maybe." Fingon shrugged. "At any rate they haven't managed to damage their hröar beyond repair around your father's house and crafting hall, and that's saying something. I think it is. I hope it is." He shook his head. "I'm excited to show this place to the others, but I'm glad we get to enjoy it together and explore it on our first."

"Yes. Speaking of which, shall we continue as we have been, ah, up here?" He looked around. There was various furniture, including a long chair apparently for sunbathing. He eyed it and Fingon suggestively. "I'll be more gentle than last time."

A tingle ran down Fingon's spine at the suggestion. Normally he would be acting like he could not control himself around his husband. To have Maedhros proactively seeking to debauch numerous parts of their home was… tantalizing and quite arousing. "I would not deny us," Fingon admitted, squeezing Maedhros' hand. "How do you want me?"

"Rather, how do you want me?" Maedhros said. "I should say it is your turn, though if you were to grant me my wish it would be to let me taste you and sate my hunger." He began nipping absently at Fingon's ear.

"Then might you feast on me while I relax on the chair? And if you wish we can trade places after, or if you are satisfied with a taste I would be pleased to have you ride me." Fingon's cheeks were flushing slightly from desire, and the more he thought of it the more he desire to be with Maedhros immediately.

"We shall see. I will be ruled by you in this," Maedhros said. "I feel adequately prepared so if you decided you would have me ride you, we could do so at your insistence." He smiled and blushed. "But you would be pulling me from a beloved task. You would have to be--forceful." Because he liked when Fingon was forceful. It was almost as wonderful as he tasted.

Fingon reached up to comb through his husband's hair with both hands. "Either way I would be much pleased. But first…" He leaned up, cupping Maedhros' cheeks and kissing him. Then he walked backwards to the lounge chair, pulling off his clothing and settling upon it.

Maedhros followed, wordlessly, licking his lips except that he stared open-mouthed as the sight unfolding before him. " _You_ are perfect." He was young and lithe, deceptively strong, and now full-grown, no trace of boyhood in his naked body--except that his face was still round and lovely, heart-shaped and _cute_ , with large eyes and a broad smile and a rounded, perfect nose. And in this environment he could well have been a king or an overlord or just a friend, his best friend, and the love of his life. In awe and gratitude, Maedhros dropped to his knees and bent over him, hands warming gently on his hips while he licked his sex tentatively, eyeing him close and waiting for invitation.

"Please," Fingon breathed. He placed a hand on Maedhros' head, enjoying the additional point of contact. "I would have thee have me. Please take me within you?" He was focused entirely on Maedhros, who looked beautiful bent over him as he was.

Maedhros did, stroking him to full hardness before closing his lips over his beloved, and moaning at the spark of taste and Fingon and _home_ that he felt. His desire and his love nearly brought tears to his eyes, but he pretended to gag so he could blink them away. With Fingon still in his mouth, sucking gently, he swiveled and clambered up onto the chair as if he would crawl straight into his lap like a tame animal. Something like that. He began to bob his head up and down the length, swallowing at each thrust.

“Russandol,” Fingon moaned softly. His free hand gripped the arm of the chair and he could not take his eyes off his husband. “Vanya. Anvanya, melda. Feels good. Soft. Nice.” He pet Maedhros’ hair distractedly as a gentle breeze moved through the valley, caressing them. “Show me how you feel?” He arched back and his eyes slid shut as his husband’s emotions crashed over him. “Oh, Russ,” he sighed, shivering happily.

Maedhros opened up his fëa as he opened up his throat, inviting Fingon as far as he could. I love you. You are beautiful. This is beautiful. You are my desire and my nourishment, my love and my home. I love thee. I love thee. He pressed his hand between Fingon's thighs, caressing him, pushing inside, completing the circuit, penetrated and penetrating. Their fear were so close, more close than their hröar, like two colors of paint mixing into a new color, and Maedhros almost felt their bodies got in the way of total union.

Love the union of our hröar as well, though, Fingon thought, caressing Maedhros’ hair. But yes, I wish that for a moment we could merge into one body, our fear sinking into each other until we are but one Elda, and yet remain Russandol and Findekáno. He shook his head. “Sorry, that probably sounds strange.” He leaned up, curling over Maedhros where he worked. “Good,” he whispered. “But you’ll have to stop soon if you want me within you." He tugged at Maedhros' hair. "Need to stop, darling."

Maedhros gasped, pulling off and wiping his mouth. Fingon was shiny with saliva, and he looked up, and Fingon's eyes shone. He gulped, nodding, sliding clumsily up his body until he could crash their lips together. He needed the contact. He couldn't think without it: and now he was here, he remembered. Fingon wanted him to ride him. "Will you guide me? Er, you?" Maedhros asked.

“Clothes first, love,” Fingon laughed. He kissed Maedhros and began fighting with his trousers. He shuddered with each inch of skin revealed to the afternoon light, wriggling against Maedhros as they fought to remove his husband's trousers. “Valar. Need-- need you Russ. Please. Hurry.”

"What?--oh!" Maedhros laughed. "I--how--sorry," he laughed again, blushing bright red as he struggled viciously with his clothes, throwing his trouser so they almost went off the edge once he was free of them. "Now? Now, please, I want you inside me," he begged.

Fingon shook his head almost violently. “Not-- just… make sure you’re open. Here, fingers--” he grabbed Maedhros hand and sucked on it, wetting his husband’s fingers. “Make sure you’re open for me. Are we-- did you bring the oil?”

Maedhros shook his head: "Mfine. Still stretched and wet from before. Promise," he said, but pressed his fingers in obediently, anyway. "You want to check me?" he asked, and winced. "Okay, plenty slick, maybe not stretched."

“Here--just-- stay like that.” Fingon sucked on a finger and reached down, carefully sliding it in next to his husband’s. “Tight,” he murmured. “Alright. Slow- I don’t want to hurt you.” They gently began coaxing Maedhros open until Fingon was certain they could join without harming his husband. 

"Like it when it hurts a little," Maedhros whispered petulantly, though he was also grateful for Fingon's care and gentleness. "Can I? Now, please?" he asked, kissing Fingon chastely, begging.

"If you're hurting after this, we won't do this again," Fingon warned. He helped position Maedhros and looked up, meeting his eyes. "Now. You may." And as Maedhros lowered himself Fingon thrust up, back arching and releasing a low sound as he was suddenly within slicktightheat while Maedhros moaned above him. "Perfect," he whispered, panting. "Maitimo. Love thee."

Maedhros' moaning turned into a whimper of delight and some pain as Fingon guided him all the way down. "Perfect," he echoed breathlessly, "love you. Doesn't hurt." Shaky hands on Fingon's shoulders, Maedhros lifted himself and slid back down, finding a rhythm that had him groaning in pleasure.

Fingon gasped and held Maedhros' hips tightly. When they found a rhythm he released one hand to run it soothingly across his husband's back. "Good," he gasped. "Love this. So good, vennonya."

"Love--" he gasped, "love you." It was too much and not enough and wonderful and he was Fingon's and Fingon belonged to him. "Feels--good--thank you--" His breath hitched as they found the spot inside him, that spot that had him shivering and squeezing his eyes shut and squeaking in an attempt not to scream.

"Thank _you_." Fingon looked up at him adoringly. "Do you know-- how much it means? That you wanted to give this to us, to be with me out in the open under a bright sky?" He moaned, sliding his hand further up to cup Maedhros' neck. "Do you have any idea what you do to me, arimelda?"

Maedhros shook his head. He'd--quite forgotten where he was, apparently. Or else he didn't care. "What you do to me," he gasped as explanation.

Fingon let out a breathless laugh and leaned up, pressing their mouths together. This is perfect. You're perfect. Love being with you. He met Maedhros' eyes with a small smile. Can you move faster, love? How close are you without even being touched?

Maedhros could move faster, he could fly if Fingon asked him to, and though he was in bliss, orgasm seemed a little ways off after their earlier activities. "Mm. More," he said. "Bit more."

"Squeeze, dearest." Fingon thrust up roughly, grunting, and held his hand to Maedhros' mouth. "Here- lick and then I can stroke you. So good, darling. I could do this for hours."

Maedhros sucked Fingon's fingers and laved at his palm, and held his breath as he tightened around Fingon, groaning at the sensation. "Hours," he agreed. He didn't need his thighs, did he?

"Russ!" Fingon shuddered. He lowered his hand and curled it around Maedhros, echoing his sigh at the sensation. "Perfect. Wonderful. Kiss me?"

Maedhros stiffened and hissed, torn between continuing his rhythm or bucking into Fingon's hand. "You--yes--" he surged forward to capture Fingon's lips with his own.

They moaned and panted and strove together. Fingon moaned against his husband and tightened his hand, twisting on the next stroke when Maedhros' rhythm faltered. "Russ! Thank you, venno. So good."

Maedhros' stomach flipped and flopped as he came near the edge, filled with lust and undying devotion. "Love you, perfect. My love. Close."

"Good," Fingon gasped. "Want-- I want you to spend first. Will you do that for me love? Finish and I'll follow you over the edge?" His hand was moving faster on his husband, and Fingon pulled him down for a desperate kiss. Please.

Maedhros drank in the kiss like he might swallow Fingon whole. His thighs burned with how fast he was moving and he could not see for the lust clouding his vision. "Fin, gonna--gonna--" and at a flick of Fingon's wrist he was spilling between them with a cry.

Fingon held on for a few seconds, trying to memorize his husband's every expression and almost certain that this was more moving and more important than his own release. "Russ!" He sobbed and finally let go, spilling within his husband as Maedhros continued to move over him. Please please please please kiss me hold me need to touch you hold you love you Maitimo, please arimeldanya vennonya, please my love.

Maedhros fell forward with a groan, throwing his arms around Fingon. There was a jolt as the chair collapsed entirely flat beneath them and they fell together, kissing each other. Love you, love you, please.

As Maedhros finished Fingon moved his hand, embracing Maedhros and holding him close. "Anything," he whispered. "You are my joy, and you make me happier than I ever dreamt I could be." He squeezed his husband, rocking him slightly. "Thank you."

"Please," Maedhros repeated, but was unsure what he meant by it. "Please, just, always be with me," he decided. "With you I can desire nothing more." He was warm and contented lying on top of Fingon with his husband's arms around him. "I know you never will leave me. Thank you." He kissed Fingon's shoulders and neck from where he was.

Fingon smiled and trailed his fingers through Mardhros' hair lazily. "Tenn' ambar metta, melda. Always I am yours as you are mine." He leaned down brushing their lips together before relaxing back again. "I hope the chair still works- I think this just became my favorite seat." He met his husband's gaze and winked.

Maedhros laughed and hugged Fingon tightly. "If not, I will fix it for you. I should like seeing you naked on it--though perhaps on one of the lower balconies where you were only for my eyes."

"I'll wander the house nude if you wish, Russ," Fingon laughed. "But will you be able to concentrate-- not on me!" He added hastily. He sent Maedhros an image of them lounging in the library and working, sans clothes. And perhaps as he reds he would reach down an idly stroke himself, just to feel his husband's reaction if Maedhros were watching.

Maedhros blushed and could feel himself trying in vain to rouse. "I would never have any thought but you--which I would not hate--and which is only a step or two away from how my mind behaves already." He kissed Fingon. "I'll want you covered from neck to toes when we do go out. I could become livid with jealousy if someone saw your neckline where I will have marked you," he growled.

Fingon laughed. "But I would wear your marks proudly, Russ, and let everyone see that I am yours." He winked. "To avoid jealousy just make sure you pull me onto the dance floor before Turko does. That should help a lot, I would imagine." He sighed and hugged Maedhros close. "I suppose I'd be unable to concentrate also- when you wore your transparent robes..." He shook, mind filling with a desire his body could not react to appropriately, "You stole my breath, my thoughts, my every idea. I loved it!"

Maedhros smiled, pressing his cheek against Fingon's chest as they held each other. "Yes, you captured my focus entirely. I would hate to see you dance with anyone else, now that we belong to each other." He kissed Fingon's neck. "If I saw you and I managed not to be homicidal, I would drag you immediately off to a room and ravish you so you remember to whom you belong."

"Well then, do I have the same right when I'm insanely jealous of those you dance with or smile at?" Fingon closed his eyes and sighed. "Ah, Russ. I can hardly be jealous when your love for our family and people is one of the things I so love about you. Perhaps I can be a little jealous of other demands on your time in a more abstract sense? You're simply too good to me-- how can I find fault?"

"And you to me," Maedhros confessed, and lowered his voice as if to impart a secret: "I would only use my jealousy as an excuse to have you. Which, I suppose, is jealousy," he laughed.

"A jealousy I must completely approve of, then. For I desire you always and hold joining with you as something both sacred and infinitely good." Fingon pulled Maedhros up a few inches and they kissed languidly. "Russ?" He asked. "Good idea." Meaning the balcony, the chair, coming to the house... everything.

Maedhros laughed. "Good idea marrying you. My father would not have designed such a house for anyone but his favorite nephew, and his brother's firstborn." He got up on his elbows and knees. "You're dirty again," he commented, and bent to lick at Fingon's seed-splattered chest.

"Dirty?" He shook his head. "Rather I'm blessed with an offering of your seed. Will you share the taste with me?" He rubbed Maedhros' back soothingly, eyes fixed on his cousin as he cleaned the area thoroughly.

Maedhros moved down Fingon's body to lave at his sex, cleaning him totally before he looked up and kissed him. "Good?" he asked.

"Very good. I think you'll have to help me up if we're moving, though. I'm too relaxed and comfy." He returned the grin. Kiss me, Maitimo? Please?"

Maedhros obliged, crawling back up his body to kiss Fingon, bodies sliding together, arms and legs going around him. "I love you," he said. "We don't have to go. I might need you to carry me," he laughed.

"Well, if you ask such a thing of me, I shall find what strength is needed. Your desire shall provide strength enough for me to accomplish the task." He cupped Maedhros' cheek, kissing him softly and then tilting his head to kiss the tip of his nose. "Thank you," he whispered. "A thousand thanks. You are… perfection embodied, melda Maitimo." He grinned and nuzzled against Maedhros, in no hurry to move. "What next, once we can move? Do we explore more or head back to the food? Do you want me to carry you back to our beautiful kitchen?" He asked the last with a teasing look.

Maedhros laughed. "I think I can manage to walk," he said. "We should scale the wall--or take the stairs--down and visit the other rooms. Are you hungry now?"

"Maybe in twenty minutes? Right now I'm… settling after another good workout. Though I suppose you got more exercise than I did this time." He tucked a few stray hairs behind Maedhros' ear as he sat up. "Tyë melin," he whispered. "Are you ready, beloved? Or shall I sit here just looking at you? That would please me equally."

"I-- _could_ walk," Maedhros said. "But I think a few more minutes here would be good." He curled against Fingon as if he were small enough to tuck himself under Fingon's arm. "I want my trousers back. I didn't throw them off the cliff, did I?"

"I don't think so." Fingon looked around, before relaxing against Maedhros. "Though that's a tempting idea. If they were accidentally thrown off would you wander around naked?"

Maedhros blushed. "I thought you said you'd be too distracted. I do want to get to the other rooms before we play again." He nipped at Fingon's jaw and pushed himself up on shaky limbs. "I can go. Can we go? Don't you want to see _our home_ , husband?" he asked, leaning down to kiss his nose.

"Very much so," Fingon admitted. He smiled up at Maedhros. "Here-- let me help." He grabbed his husband's trousers first and sank to his knees, helping Maedhros step into each leg. "There. And, ah- where did your shirt go?" He pulled on his own trousers, then found Maedhros' shirt, and then, further away, his own shirt, which had been the first article of clothing he discarded. "May I take your arm, even if you can walk on your own?" He made the suggestion a request, standing close and holding his arm out invitingly.

Maedhros felt shaky still, and took the arm gratefully. "You may. I can _not_ without you." He smiled down at Fingon as they stepped carefully down the stairs. Maedhros looked down to count the floors. "I think there's one more landing before the master bedroom. Should we take the outdoor or indoor stairs?"

"Outdoor?" Fingon suggested, though he had no strong preference. "And we can wind our way through some of the guest rooms--I think that's where we'll be going through?-- before we meander back to the kitchen and stew!"

"Yes. You'll help me?" He of course _could_ walk, but if he had an excuse to hold Fingon's arm the entire time, he wouldn't complain. "How many guest bedrooms are there, again? Does he expect us to house all my brothers at once so he and mother can have some alone time?" he chuckled.

Fingon stopped short and looked at him with an expression of abject horror. “Don’t suggest such a thing-- all our brothers… terrifying. Your parents giving us _more_ brothers… that takes frightening to an entirely new level. What if they have triplets next time? Ambarussa plus one.” Fingon shuddered before breaking into a wide grin. “I’m sure there are plenty of guestrooms- goodness knows grandfather has more than enough in his home- he could house the entire family if he so chose!” He took Maedhros’ arm as they continued down the steps, leaning close and listening to the wind in the trees and the clear chiming notes of water cascading down the valley. He reached over and squeezed his husband’s hand.

"Let's take a look, then," Maedhros said, opening the door on the lower landing. What he was greeted by, to his surprise, was another door: a glass door, like the outside one, and a showerhead. He gaped. "A glass shower!" There were small plants in pots along the inside. He eyed Fingon suggestively. "You know I can't control myself in showers with you. And here we happen upon one accidentally!"

"I love our fathers. I love our grandfather." Fingon looked Maedhros up and down with a wide smile. "Accidentally? Or did you notice this as we rode up? Either way you certainly won't have any complaints from me. Now… what do you think we should do, coming upon a shower like this?"

"Well, I mean, we're a bit dirty from before. On the other hand we'll only get dirty again." Still, kissing him up against the glass wall wouldn't do any harm.

You're spoiling me! Fingon wound his limbs around Maedhros, deepening their kiss. I love it. He shifted one hand and began trying to unlace Maedhros' shirt and pull it back off. "We'd get dirty again while getting clean," Fingon pointed out. "And we could wash off the sweat from earlier. I could lather you up and rinse you and slide against your clean, slick hröa. And then we'd be entirely clean when we went to eat our stew."

"If we don't get distracted on the way," Maedhros said, leaning down to kiss along Fingon's neck, unlacing his shirt.

"Well… I wouldn't complain about tha--" Fingon gasped as Maedhros' lips found a sensitive spot, "that either!" He shifted and, wanting to have Maedhros as interested as he currently as, he slid both hands down the back of Maedhros' trousers, cupping the globes of flesh and pulling Maedhos' close, grinding them together. "Want the shower on, Russ. Can we? Please?"

Maedhros pawed at the wall, but had to pull back to look at the nobs and dials. "Damn it, what?--this is a shower, not higher mathematics." After a few spins of dials, water began to rain from the entire ceiling, pooling in a drain at the center of the floor. Maedhros wasn't even undressed yet, but seeing Fingon wet and laughing set him afire, and he pushed him back against the wall again, kissing him fiercely.

"Russandol!" Fingon gasped the name and pressed back against him. He laughed, realizing Maedhros was clothed and wet, and he raised his legs to wrap them around Maedhros' waist. He remained pinned to the wall, clinging to Maedhros as his husband plundered his mouth.

"I've always wanted to kiss you in the rain," Maedhros whispered, rocking against him. "Now I can kiss you in the rain any time." He wrapped his arms around Fingon's wet, warm, squirming body and squeezed him. "No, no, leave them on. Leave your trousers on. Want to make you cream your pants," he said, cupping between his legs and rubbing him.

Fingon groaned, grinding into Maedhros' clever hands. "Thought we were going to use the shower to get clean?" He asked the question idly, holding Maedhros and having no desire to stop. "But…" he looked up at Maedhros from under long, damp lashes, "I will if you will." The last was stated in a whisper, a secret offer to be kept just between the two of them. "Will you? For me?"

"That's rather more up to you, isn't it?" Maedhros giggled, nibbling up Fingon's ear and hand sneaking up inside Fingon's wet shirt. " _I'm_ going to _make_ you soil your pants. I didn't ask you," he growled, stepping between Fingon's legs.

"Then I'll _make_ you soil your as well," Fingon replied fiercely. He returned his hands to the back of Maedhros' trousers, slipping them down against warm, wet skin and squeezing. "Valar, love, every part of you is beautiful- even here. I could finish just thinking about this." he squeezed for emphasis and pulled Maedhros to him, grinding their hips together with a pleased whimper. "'s good."

"You--" Maedhros hissed, hips snacking forward at Fingon's touches. "Mm, you're good. So good. Love you. You make me so hot, your touches, the little noises you make." He rubbed his palm over Fingon's groin, listening to him gasp and squeak, and he grabbed his throat and pulled him into a kiss. "Yes. And you taste so good."

"Yours," Fingon gasped. "All for you. All for us." He laughed and pressed his face against his husband's shoulder. "It won't even take much," he added in a whisper. "Because your touches so move me, and the ideas arouse me, but mostly, I think, because my hröa aches to please you and will do nearly anything to bring your ideas and fantasies to fruition." He began to nip at Maedhros' neck, raising a small line of kiss marks. "Anvanya, Maitimo," he murmured softly.

"Venonya," Maedhros breathed, hissing himself and rocking against him. They slid together fully clothed, and it was just as erotic as anything else they had done today. He wanted to drink Fingon's fëa out from his mouth. "Love you. You feel so good. Taste so good." He arched forward, hard already.

Fingon whimpered and pressed against him, offering his hips, mouth, and hröa entirely. "Very good," he muttered, mouth slotting against Maedhros'. Have I told you how much I love your ideas, arimelda? So good, so perfect, love. Thank you for having such splendid ideas.

Maedhros was rutting against Fingon in a steady rhythm now as he continued kissing him, and rocked his thigh in between Fingon's legs. "Love you," he groaned.

"Love… love thee." Fingon panted, moving against Maedhros almost unconsciously as he focused on catching his lips again. Good, good, so good, so good Russ.

Maedhros shifted from biting and whispering against Fingon's neck to kissing him again, a demanding, hungry kiss. Want to feel you come for me, my dirty boy, my precious love, my only husband.

"Fuck! Russ!" Fingon's hands clenched around him as he gasped. Yours, he thought desperately. Your boy. Your husband. Tell me, make me, please vennonya. Order me to finish for you. Fingon lowered one leg, toes barely brushing the ground as he tried to press back against Maedhros. "Please," he whispered.

Mine, Maedhros told him across their bond, growling for emphasis: As I am yours, he promised. He rubbed between Fingon's legs, squeezing him and kissing him in the artificial rain. Love you. Come for me, now.

"Russandol!" Fingon shouted against Maedhros mouth as he finished, almost too soon after last time but Maedhros had told him and was over him and against him, holding him up and everything was warm and wet and perfect. Russ, Russ, Russ! Venno, thank you, thank you, love you so. As soon as Fingon half caught his breath he lowered his other leg to the ground guiding Maedhros against the other side of the shower and pressing close. On their way someone's elbow knocked into a knob and now water was coming from the side of the shower as well, shooting out in firm, massaging jets. "Oh, _Valar_ ," Fingon breathed, lowering a hand to press against his husband firmly.

"Oh, fuck, Finno," Maedhros gasped, arching against Fingon, the jets massaging against his back gloriously.

Fingon smirked. "Want to try something, darling?" he asked, eyes dancing. His lips lingered over his husband's for a minute before he pulled back. "Here-- turn for me. I imagine this will feel good-- tell me if it doesn't." He guided Maedhros around, turning off the higher jets and lowering the water pressure just slightly so that his husband had a strong stream of water from one of the lowest jets splashing against his soaked trousers. Fingon tucked his chin into Maedhros' shoulder, looking down the front of his husband's body as he worked a hand down the font of Maedhros' pants. "How's it feel?"

Maedhros groaned, bucking back to escape the overstimulation, but he only ran into Fingon who pinned him and then reached down his trousers. "Fuck, oh fuck,"he whispered, hips rocking involuntarily. "Yes, uhhgh," he groaned, throwing his head back. "Fin, gonna--I'm gonna--"

"You're going to spend for me?" Fingon suggested, carefully enunciating in the high accent. "Are you going to dirty your trousers for me, spend before you even finish undressing just because of a little bit of water? Just because of a few touches of my hand against your desire?" He hummed thoughtfully, shifting his hand and stroking his fingers along the side of Maedhros' arousal. "I think I would like that very much, venno. Spend for me, my doll."

Maedhros punched the wall and roared when he came, hips jerking and vision whiting out. His knees went weak and he leaned heavily against the wall.

"Russ!" Fingon wrapped an arm around Maedhros' waist, helping to hold him up. He worked Maedhros through his completion and then shifted, curling a hand around his husband's fist and carefully rubbing it. "Are you alright? Sorry. Sorry, love. Didn't mean to hurt you. Never want to hurt you." He held Maedhros to him gently, carefully, as though Maedhros were something that must be handled with utmost care.

"Didn't hurt me," Maedhros gasped dizzily, laying his hand over Fingon's hand. "Good. 'M good. Love you. Feel good." He hadn't hit the wall hard, and nothing hurt.

“I still want to take care of you,” Fingon whispered. “And you still deserve to treated like something precious. You _are_ the most precious thing in my life, venno.” He kissed along Maedhros’ neck gently, smiling against his skin. “The water was good?”

"Yes, oh yes," he moaned. "You can help me out of these wet clothes, if you like," he giggled, turning the taps to turn off the water and pawing at Fingon to get him out of his clothes.

"Now that we've gotten them all dirty," Fingon said with a snort. When they had finished removing them, he reached out to turn the jets up again, turning to rest his own back against the pounding water. "I think I could get used to this, love. And this is just the… well, it's not even a guest bathroom. It's just the doorway bathroom!"

Maedhros laughed. "Perhaps we should make love in only alternate rooms, at this rate." He stepped out of the shower and grabbed towels from hooks just outside. He hung their clothes up and wrapped Fingon in a towel before pulling him into a kiss as they stepped out.

“Hmm… I won’t speak out against making love with you in any place,” Fingon admitted with a grin. “But I will admit I’m looking forward to making love in our bed, in our room, in our house my beloved husband.” He wrapped his arms around Maedhros’ neck lazily, leaning against him. “This day has been… like a glorious dream. One that I never want to wake from.”

"I am so blessed. We are so blessed. Ah, Finno, thank you. Thank you," he said, and hugged him close as together they fell naked and damp on the nearest guest bed. "If you had not loved me, if you had not married me, none of this could have made me happy. But as it is I am doubly blessed. Thank you."

“You’re welcome. Though you must know that everything pleases me just as much- you are my world, venno.” Fingon smiled up at Maedhros, indescribably pleased with his husband’s weight pinning him to the mattress. “This is perfect. I like having you on top of me,” he whispered. After a moment he grinned up at his cousin, running a hand along his back idly. “What is your favorite part of the house so far? The balcony? The kitchen? The library?”

Maedhros snuggled closer and kissed the tip of his nose. "Aside from your smiling face in each room?" He asked. "Probably the kitchen. Or all the balconies connected outside." He looked around the room and after a moment pulled Fingon to his feet. "Come on. Let's count the guest bedrooms."

"As you wish." Fingon laughed, holding the towel around his waist with one hand as Maedhros pulled him out of the room. "If we can even find them all," he reminded his husband. He grinned widely as they began opening doors, taking cursory looks through the closest rooms.

"Findekáno, look!" Maedhros called from another bedroom--again looking at the bath. It was a waist-high bench with jets at nine points along it. He eyed Fingon with a smirk. "Now what could we do with that?" he asked.

Fingon shivered in pleasure and then moaned in discomfort. "Too soon!" he complained, hand straying to the edge of his towel. "But I can think of _several_ things we can do with it." He leaned against Maedhros, eyeing it speculatively. "Plus it looks like it would provide a wonderful massage after a hard day's… exercise."

"Ah yes," he said. "We'll come back to it tomorrow, then." He pulled Fingon through the rooms, where each had a new and different bath. The rooms were many and seemed to go on forever.

"Russ?" Fingon called gently after a while. His husband turned to him, and Fingon pulled him into a hug, looking up at him. "I'm afraid I've lost count," he admitted. "Though I know we have weeks worth of showers to try out." I can't wait! "Are you almost ready for one stew, or would you prefer to keep exploring for a while?"

"Mm, well," he said, wrapping his arms around Fingon and kissing him. "I think we have a date before stew, don't we? We said every other room."

"Every other guest room," Fingon agreed amiably. "Though I'm not sure I'm up for going through the crafting hall and whatever might be built on top of the hill. And I wonder if there's a small cabin a ways off in the valley? If not, we should keep our eyes open for a place to put one- somewhere small and quiet that's surrounded by nature." He shrugged, and his hand found its way into Maedhros' as they kissed again. "Alright, come on!" He tugged on his cousin, moving them out of the room. "Let's keep looking!"

"I meant," Maedhros clarified, throwing Fingon onto a nearby bed (this one was small and pink, as if for a small girl), "that we have a date in every room. And I don't care how tired you are." He crawled on top of him and kissed him.

"Russ!" Fingon squealed as he was tossed back. He picked up a pink pillow with tassels and thwacked his husband. "You perv! This must be a room for Nerwen," judging by the size of the bed and the numerous forest paintings, "or else for some future little one!" Contrary to his words his foot was trailing up Maedhros' leg as he wrapped a leg around his husband's waist.

"Then stop leading me on, or push me off the bed," Maedhros growled, nipping at his neck. "I could chase you to a location more to your liking, or you to mine."

"I fear we'd end up in _our_ room too soon," Fingon said with a laugh. "But…. uh-" he groaned, hands scrambling on the bed before grabbing Maedhros and holding him close. "Good," he whispered. "And almost too much. Well, not too much, but too soon. Aren't you…?" He searched Maedhros expression briefly. "Here-- shall I lead, or will you chase me until we're in a room of your choosing?"

Maedhros laughed. "I don't expect to catch you until you let me," he said. "Or you can lead. You know I love it when you lead," he added with a sincere blush.

"Tonight," Fingon whispered in his ear. "Tonight we will see this glorious bed father has built for us, and I shall lead, if you are willing. I have plans for that bed, Nelyafinwë Maitimo Russandol, and if you are willing I should very much begin making my fantasies a reality this evening." Then he unhooked his leg and scooted out from under Maedhros, slapping his rear gently and running out the room with a call of "you're it!" drifting back to Maedhros.

Maedhros tore after Fingon, laughing in and out of bathrooms, walk-in showers, and bedrooms, chasing his agile, beautiful, naked cousin. A few times he might have caught his hair if he was trying harder, but Fingon alluded him. "It's getting hard to run with this boner I've got!" he called.

There was a stumble, followed by a crash and a curse. "Not fair, Russandol! I'll get you later for this!" Fingon scampered out of the room, hopping erratically on one foot every few steps while rubbing his calf. "Fuck!" He tore into a large bedroom decorated in browns and shades of gold and green. Deciding this was as good as any, he there himself onto the bed, towel long ago discarded, slicked his hand with his tongue, and began to stroke himself. He was angled toward the door, and let his legs fall open widely, panting and flushed and growing ever more excited as he waiting for his husband to find him and, unless Maedhros did something that had him running away again-- surely a near painful experience by now, to catch him.

"Oh, Fin," Maedhros groaned at the sight. He kissed Fingon's injured shin, and kissed his way up his leg until he could kiss his cock and hand, and swallowed him down (fingers and all), groaning again to vibrate.

"Rrr-Rrruuh--" Fingon broke off, whimpering in overstimulation. He was shaking already, body trying to tell him they had just done this while trying to valiantly rise to the occasion. Valar fuck, Russ, please! He twisted the slick, silky sheet grasped in one hand while bringing the other down to hold Maedhros shoulder and then his neck, be for returning to one of his favorite spots for it in the middle of Maedhros' hair.

Now Maedhros moaned in overstimulation himself, and kiss his way up his body until he was kissing his lips. "May I take you?" he whispered. "I won't hurt you. I'll be very gentle. Open you up with my tongue first. Would you like that, my Findekáno? My husband?"

"I- uh- Ru… Russplease!" Fingon gasped. "Want that. Want you. Even if it hurts, _please_." Their gazes met as their noses brushed lightly. I _always_ want you within me vennonya. I want you to want me, and then take me because I am yours. Because you are mine. Because we belong together and I'm never as complete as when our hroar are joined. "Please have me," he breathed, hips twitching at the thought of Maedhros' tongue _slick wet soft hot_ opening him.

"Good boy," he hummed, "now turn over for me, show me you want it, baby." He got up on his hands and knees, helping Fingon to roll over.

Fingon flopped onto his face and chest before correcting his position. "Ruuuuuuuss! I can't _think_ when you talk like that!" He felt a tingle of pleasure down his spine as he looked back at Maedhros. "Please," he added breathlessly, looking up through his lashes. "Please lick me open." He spread his legs further, offering himself. "Please put your tongue in me, venno. Want to feel it. Your mouth is so warm and wet and perfect, and I don't believe there's anything in Arda quite like having your tongue inside me, opening me up and preparing me for you."

"There's nothing in Arda like the taste of you," Maedhros hummed, breath hot between Fingon's legs, and opening his mouth he pressed the flat of his tongue to Fingon's entrance, massaging it with love.

"Valar, Russandol," Fingon moaned, whole body shuddering. "Feels… amazing. Right. Thank you." He closed his eyes, focused entirely on what was going on behind him.

So good for me, Maedhros praised, spreading his cheeks and sliding his tongue inside. Love you. Taste good.

Fingon moaned happily and clenched his fists, rocking back against Maedhros. Russ, Russ, Russ, he thought. Perfect.

Maedhros took his time with Fingon, laving him gently and thoroughly, tongue venturing to massage his sac and pressing inside, spreading him open.

"Vennonya… s'good. You undo me… you're _everything_." Fingon's toes curled in and he shook his head, pressing himself against Maedhros and trying to take more of his husband within. "Do you want to… feel? Or later?" He held himself open mentally in invitation, should Maedhros wish to take him up on the offer.

Darling, I always want to feel you, Maedhros said, invading Fingon's fëa as he pressed inside his body, so intimately. Fingon was open and love and beauty.

"I… nguh! Russ!" Fingon moaned, squeezing around his husband's tongue just to feel it. "Tyë melin," he murmured. "Tenn' ambar metta, Russ." His husband was open as well, and was impossibly delighted to have Fingon open in front of him. He could feel Maedhros' pleasure joining with his own physical pleasure and with his fëa, and suddenly he could barely support himself, trembling and aching and  almost overpowered by their mingled emotions.

Maedhros reached between Fingon's legs and splayed his hand over his belly. Let me hold you, he said, his tongue darting in and out of his body quickly.

Please, Fingon thought in agreement. He complied with a sob, collapsing against Maedhros' hand. "Good. Fantastic. Thank you, please, yes, _venno_!" Valar, your tongue! Feels… can't even… please, Russ… "More?" he requested tentatively.

Maedhros didn't have much left in his tongue, but he pushed it deeper and massaged flat against his entrance. Going to fill you up, darling. He lifted his head and wiped his mouth. "Going to have you now, love. Going to flip you over so you don't mess the bed, and I'm going to lick you clean after."

Fingon whimpered softly at the loss of Maedhros' tongue, but then moaned long and loud, toes curling in pleasure at his husband's words. "Help me?" He let Maedhros control his movements and arrange him on his back. When he was settled he looked up. "I feel… empty, Russ." He twitched. "Please fill me up now?"

"I will, love. Especially gladly when you ask me so sweetly." Maedhros prepared Fingon a bit more with his fingers, but he was well stretched and already sloppy. He had only to slick himself with his own precome and press inside. He sighed. "Want never to be gone from here, my love," he whispered, holding still as Fingon got used to the intrusion.

"Never, never, never." Fingon tossed his head from side to side, eyes sliding shut as he focused on the stretch and slight burn as his husband entered him. He canted his hips upward, rocking himself further onto Maedhros. "Home," gasped, arms coming up to wind about Maedhros' frame. "Feels like home."

"We are home love," Maedhros promised, tears springing accidentally to his eyes. "Our home. I love you." He began to thrust gently, shallowly.

Fingon opened his eyes to find himself looking directly at Maedhros, and he pulled himself up trying to kiss away his tears. "Ours. Yes. Forever. Tenn' ambar metta and beyond, vennonya." Fingon's arms shook as he pressed himself tightly to Maedhros, rocking his hips in time with his husband's thrusts. "This is… perfection. It's bliss. Thank you for giving me the world, Russ, and making my greatest dreams into reality." He fell back to the bed, grinning and laughing happily. "And thank you for chasing me around our home and being willing to try out showers with me, cooking dinner with me and for making me laugh."

"Thank you, thank _you_ ," Maedhros said, laugh-crying now because he still couldn't believe it. "You are my everything. You are my home."

Fingon teared up at that, laughing and crying and smiling broadly. "I love thee," he whispered. "I love thee." Then Maedhros' angle changed slightly and Fingon was moaning and arching back, trying to get more of the sensation as Maedhros rubbed against him so perfectly.

"Yes, good," Maedhros hummed, hips working in long thrusts. "Love watching you dance. Beautiful. You close for me, baby?"

Fingon's mouth opened and closed soundlessly as he tried to focus on each individual sensation and then on his husband's feelings. "Yes," he whispered, surprised. "I-- already, yes, I am." He nodded, tugging Maedhros into a kiss.

Me too, Maedhros replied through the kiss. I'm with you. I'm home. Inside you. I can feel your heart beating. I can feel your love and your fëa. I'm home. We're together. You could not stop me from finishing with you.

"Don't want to," Fingon whispered. "And I can… Valar, Russ, I can feel your heartbeat _within_ me, where you're pressed deep inside. Hmm… at the very center of me is your heartbeat. I like that." He threaded his fingers through Maedhros' hair, touching him softly. "Almost ready. Shall we? Or would you have me try to hold on?"

"I'm with you," Maedhros said, gasping in between long thrusts. "With you. Now. Home. Now." A few quick thrusts and he tumbled over the edge, so close to Fingon he couldn't tell who went first.

Fingon held Maedhros to him and for a moment it felt like their hröar were sliding into each other, like they truly had become one being. He tucked his face against Maedhros' neck and shoulder, eyes wide as he spent and felt his husband pulsing within him. It was a moment that made him wish they could freeze time that it might go on forever. "Russandol," he whispered in wonder when the moment passed. It was sacred, beautiful, a feeling he would remember as long as his fëa existed.

He would never forget the joining of their fëar and hröar. Never. He would remember every single time that they joined together, like this. Body and soul together. Joined. Home. He would never forget. So the moment never really ended, seared into his mind. He was gasping and sweating and rutting, possibly screaming. Fingon was in him just as he was in Fingon. "Love you. Home."

"Home." When he had caught his breath Fingon rolled them, still joined, so that he could rest on his cousin. He lifted his head slightly and smiled down at him. "All this and we haven't even made it to our bedroom yet… or to dinner." Leaning down they kissed briefly, and then again as Fingon could not bear to separate himself from Maedhros. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Sorry." Maedhros flipped them again with a growl before Fingon's seed could fall onto his chest. "I want to clean you," he said firmly. "You lead after dinner." He slid out of Fingon and bent to lick his chest, licking down his body and gently at his entrance to clean him. Not a drop hit the bedspread below them.

"Maitimo!" Fingon squealed, giggling as he was flipped and as Maedhros' clever tongue began working at him. "After dinner," he promised with a shiver. "I'll have you squirming for me then." He continued to stroke his husband's hair, breath slowing as he drifted mindlessly, content and half asleep under his husband's gentle touches.

"After dinner," Maedhros said with a smirk, "which I may not be hungry for after this." He licked his lips and lifted his head. "Can I carry you upstairs? Or do you want to walk? Or should we wait here a bit longer?" He nuzzled Fingon gently and lovingly.

"Carry me?" Fingon requested with a blush before quickly adding to his statement. "Um… I mean… if you can, with the stairs and after what we just did. I don't want you to over exert yourself. But if it wouldn't be too much trouble?" Fingon sat up, leaning down to kiss Maedhros. He licked at his husband's mouth, catching traces of his own flavor mingled with Maedhros own taste. "That or we can lean on each other as we head up, and perhaps find an informal den to curl up and eat. I'd, I'd like to keep touching you, if that's alright. Even just leaning against each other as we sit, or having our ankles touch." He shrugged, pressing a kiss to the corner of his husband's mouth.

"You'll have to pry yourself from me," Maedhros said, scooping Fingon into his arms bridal style. "You will never be too heavy for me, as long as I can hold myself." He made his way up the stairs, up two flights of spiraled steps to the kitchen.

Fingon looped his arms around Maedhros' neck and closed his eyes, trusting Maedhros to get them safely to the kitchen. "Every time I think I cannot possibly grow any happier, you prove me wrong. Are you doing that on purpose love?" he teased gently. Soon they were back in the kitchen which was permeated by the smell of the stew, meaty and rich and filled with herbs. Fingon's stomach growled.

"Only if you are, too," Maedhros said, setting Fingon, naked, on the counter next to the stove, where he would put him when he was a child, and he kept an arm around him as he stirred the stew. "Mm, good. Bread to go with?" He asked, tasting it and adding a few more spices.

"Definitely! And I'll put some tea on in a few minutes, unless you'd prefer something else." Fingon kicked his legs distractedly, stomach continuing to grumble. "I'll get the bread- we should definitely test the stew before you make up our bowls, right?"

Maedhros spooned out a taste for Fingon, blowing on it. "Parmesan cheese might be good on top," he said, feeding Fingon the taste. "All right?"

Fingon was certain he shouldn't be getting such enjoyment from having Maedhros blow on his food and spoon feed him as he had done when Fingon was very young, particularly whilst sitting nude on their counter and watching his husband looking ever so desirable as his brow furrowed and he, also nude, added an extra pinch of oregano to the stew. "Delicious, Russ. One second- I'll get the bread and kettle." Fingon slid off the counter and crossed the cold floor quickly, staying on his toes. He paused just long enough to slap Maedhros' rear playfully before dancing off. "I know, I know, after dinner!"

Maedhros huffed, blushing, and rubbed his backside. He got down bowls and grated hard cheese. "We could curl up in the library, or--is there a den?"

"I think there was supposed to be somewhere on this floor," Fingon said as he returned. He was balancing a loaf of bread and the tea kettle on a large silver tray. "We can load up the tray and go in search of it? And if it isn't somewhere on this floor we can head back to the library." He bounced on the balls of his feet and shivered from head to toes. "I like the library."

Maedhros grinned goofily. "I like the library, too. Let's go there. I'm too tired for a new room." He ladled soup into large handled bowls, sprinkled each with cheese, added spoons, and poured hot water and tea into the pot. Teacups came from a shelf above. "Am I forgetting anything?"

"It looks great." Fingon grabbed napkins, adding them to the tray and picking it up. "To the library? I think one of the little alcoves would be perfect- there was one by the windows that had a particularly comfortable looking couch."

"Yes, sounds wonderful," Maedhros said. He didn't remember much about the library, to be honest. He remembered butter for the bread and sugar for the tea at the last minute, and grabbed a knife to cut the bread as he followed Fingon to the library. To their library.

They descended quickly, and Fingon located the couch he wanted, setting the tray on a long coffee table. "Can we sit together?" he asked, finding a spot on the sofa after he carefully poured two cups of tea.

"You try to stop me," Maedhros said, curling up next to Fingon and covering them with one blanket before arranging their dinner, giving Fingon his first and watching him eat before hunger awoke in him, too. He was _very_  hungry, once he started eating. He had to go back for more, and brought some for Fingon, and fled and returned again with chocolate mints to cleanse their palates.

"I didn't realize how hungry I was," Fingon said, patting his stomach contentedly. "Delicious as always, Russ. And very filling- stew was a perfect choice for this evening. Thank you." He leaned up and kissed his husband's cheek.

"Thank you for your help," Maedhros replied, kissing Fingon at the same time. He settled, warm and sated. "If you go get the poetry book, I'll read to you," he offered drowsily.

Fingon found another copy of Irissë's book in their library and, grabbing it, half ran back to his warm blanket and warmer cousin. He wiggled under the covers, tucking himself close to his husband's side and handed him the book. "Robes, Russ. We need robes. That way without getting completely dressed we cans stay a bit warmer when we need to move around."

"We have robes. I've just been too preoccupied to unpack them." He shrugged and opened the book. "Now where were we?"

"In our room, probably, once we get there. We're almost three quarters of the way through," Fingon reminded him, cuddling close. "They'd just crossed the mountains and had reached a place where they thought they could cross the river."

"Ah yes," Maedhros said, "and they stopped in the hollow of a tree to spend the night together." He grinned and read aloud of that night, which was suggestive without being necessarily obscene, and he read in the high accent so that everything rhymed properly.

Fingon snuggled against him, eyes following along for a brief period before he allowed them to slip shut. He proceeded to focus entirely on Maedhros' voice, hröa, and story. And against the back of his mind he could feel their mutual contentment across the bond. The corners of his mouth twitched upward and, turning his head, he gently kissed his husband's shoulder.

"Mm," Maedhros said, breaking his rhythm as he turned to kiss Fingon's brow. "Would you like to read some, or should I continue?"

"Hmm? Oh, ah, sure, I'll take my turn reading." Fingon blinked several times and stretched before focusing on the book in front of him. Squeezing Maedhros' hand in his own he began to read, soon finding the flow of the poetry and smiling softly as his focus was torn between the tale he was reading and his husband pressed against him…

Maedhros pulled Fingon into his lap and nuzzled his neck,  for the most part ignoring the story though he hung on Fingon's every word.

Fingon read until his mouth began to get dry. He swallowed, turning to Maedhros for a kiss. "I'm going to grab water and a glass. Did you want to read again when I get back.?"

Maedhros shifted. "I could bring you water. Would you like to stay here? We could read more--if you want. I'm happy just to be with you," he said, kissing Fingon's shoulder.

"Me too," Fingon whispered, leaning against his husband. "We could read a bit more, and finish the book tomorrow. If you don't mind getting it… perhaps we could share a glass of water?" He turned to look up at Maedhros. "Do you want the blanket while you're up and about?"

"No," Maedhros said, and then grinned. "But I want you!" And with a laugh he hefted Fingon into his arms and stood, carrying Fingon as he had before. Tucking the blanket up around him, he scaled the stairs easily, and once inside the kitchen, he used Fingon's hands instead of his own to fill the glass.

“Russ, you’re being silly!” Fingon was laughing, hands shaking slightly as they completed their task under Maedhros gentle direction. This moment is perfect too, he thought and sent across their bond. “Here- we’d better drink it and refill it at least once before we move- I’m thirsty and I’m sure you are as well.” He raised the glass to Maedhros’ mouth, offering his husband the first sip.

Maedhros drank, a drop of water running down his chin, and sighed audibly after. "Thank you. We should. A glass for each of us. You drink some now," he added, setting Fingon, as if by habit, on the counter by the stove.

Fingon squirmed slightly at the cool countertop against his skin. It was still odd and somewhat thrilling to be so unapologetically and unabashedly naked in the ‘public’ areas of their house. He twitched slightly in interest before focusing on his water and their plans to continue reading and cuddling for a while. “Thanks.” He tilted his head back and emptied the glass before handing it to Maedhros to refill. His legs bounced lightly against the side of the counter. “Will you carry me back to our library?”

"Yes--and beyond, if you like," Maedhros said with a smile, refilling the water, drinking it, and refilling it again before handing it to Fingon. "Shall we finish off our bottle of wine from this afternoon?"

"I'll carry it, and the water, if you carry me," Fingon offered, nodding. "And we can grab a few chocolates to go with the wine."

"You'll be carrying more than me, then," Maedhros laughed, but scooped Fingon into his arms anyway, leaving it to him to balance food and drink on himself. In the end they made it with another tray, and settled into the couch for more reading.

Fingon tucked his feet up onto the couch and curled himself against Maedhros' chest. "Russ?" he asked softly as they shared a drink before continuing to read. "Have I told you how much I love you today? More than life, more than breath, more than carving or forging or language or adventuring, I love thee."

"And so much and more I love thee," Maedhros said, kissing his brow and wrapping arms and legs around him. "I am incomplete without thee."

"Then I shall do my best to ensure you are always whole." Leaning up, Fingon offered his lips for a kiss. "I am yours, vennonya." They settled and, setting the wineglasses down, found their place in the book to continue reading. "I think it's your turn," Fingon whispered, snuggling close, content in Maedhros' embrace.

Maedhros continued from where Fingon left off: now their lover-heroes were riding the backs of eagles to the seat of Manwë, and were married in his sight and with his blessing. It didn't matter, of course, Maedhros thought to himself, for they were already joined before, and the Vala's words were merely nominal. But he didn't necessarily like what he was thinking, so he pushed it aside as he continued reading, taking the occasional sip of wine until he was warm all over.

Eventually Fingon interrupted with a yawn, which he tried to smother in his arm. "It's a good story," he said when Maedhros reached a break point and paused. "Better than you were expecting? I mean, I don't want to read epic romantic poetry all the time, but every once in a while," he shrugged, "it's a nice change of pace. And I think this particular story will always have a special place in my heart."

"I still think Irissë's too young to be reading it," Maedhros said stuffily, more than half-joking. He set the book aside. "But yes, I will always think of it fondly, and if you ask me, the heroine would have been much better served with dark hair, and the hero with copper." He grinned.

Fingon, for the sake of the night's current pleasantness and his plans for later, opted not to point out that he was quite certain she and Turko had done far more than the heroes of the tale. He grinned back at Maedhros at his mention of hair color. "Are you sure the hero shouldn't have dark hair and the heroine a head of wild copper locks? After all, I'm your valiant adventurer aren't I?" He laughed, kissing up Maedhros' neck with a smile. "It's okay- I like it either way. I quite like being your princess sometimes," Fingon added with a whisper in his husband's ear. He nibbled at the edge before pulling away and reaching for his glass of wine.

Maedhros shivered and giggled. "Well I was only thinking because he was older and taller. But she was the better cook," he made a show of considering as he stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“Well… like I said, either way.” Fingon laughed, “You make good points. Drink?” He shrugged and offered Maedhros his glass.

Maedhros opened his mouth and swallowed, and then, affecting his voice in a ridiculously high accent, he quoted a half-remembered verse in the vein of the poem they were just reading: "Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I'll not look for wine."

“Venno,” Fingon sighed, shivering. He carefully placed the cup back on the table and then leaned up, pressing his mouth to his husband’s. I think I like the sound of that. And my eyes, my kisses, my hröa are all yours.

Maedhros giggled and his eyes lit up. "Well, if you react to poetry like that I shall have to improve my hand at word crafting." He wrapped his arms and legs around Fingon and kissed him deeply, slowly, thoroughly. "Are we ready to see our room?" he asked after a moment.

“Are you ready to give yourself over to me, if only for a little while?” Fingon tucked a few escaped strands of hair back behind his husband’s ear. “Tonight will be slow, thorough, and very, very pleasurable if you are willing.” He smiled and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of Maedhros’ mouth. “And if I can control myself,” he added. “You do tend to drive all thought from my mind as we come together in passion.”

Maedhros shivered. He nodded, eyes shining with trust and devotion, and the corner of his mouth turned up in nervous delight and some flattery. "I--I am," he stammered, feeling tension draining out of him already, but suddenly old fears resurfaced, and he wondered if he was being too quick, or too easy, or too weak. He wanted this, he had wanted it all night, all _day_. Old ideas of 'supposed to' and 'should' and questions of who topped and if it mattered and how (now for the first time he feared Fingon might find him less desirable if he was as submissive as he wanted to be, and he wondered if he should make a show of resisting?) tangled up in his mind, and he had to take a deep breath to shove them away. He did shove them away, but not before they shook him, shattered his nerves, like a nightmare he knew better than to believe in once light came. "Sorry--" he mumbled, for he wasn't sure how much of that Fingon saw, as close as they were, and he feared letting Fingon see all of it. He was embarrassed of it. He was over this. He knew better. "I--yes--please. I am." He gulped. 

“Russ—" Fingon spluttered, startled by Maedhros' thoughts. "I—how can you still worry about a thing? I love you, Russandol.” I love us. He shifted, managing to straddle Maedhros’ lap and hold him close pressing himself against his cousin. “Have you ever thought less of me for submitting to you?” he asked quietly, voice rough. “Have you thought me unworthy of being the firstborn of Nolofinwë, second son of King Finwë? I love all of you Russ. You know that. I thought you felt safe with me. I like possessing you and I like yielding to you, and I thought you wanted the same. Every time we discuss this I swear I'll do my best to show you that I love you and I'm going to take care of you. It just—it hurts when you’re afraid.” Still afraid.

It was Fingon’s turn to be thrown into the past for a moment, remembering the first time he had mentioned his fantasy of making love to his husband in their valley and Maedhros’ shock and surprise at the idea. Remembering how hurt he had been and how hurt Maedhros had been and how part of him had wished he could go back and never find out that Russ, his Russ, his perfect prince had… Fingon shook his head, pulling back from Maedhros as he tried to rid himself of the thoughts. “Sorry--sorry. I’m sorry Russandol.” His breath was quickening into gasping gulps of air and he pressed a hand to his chest. “Just need--a minute. Sorry. I can’t. I didn’t think. I mean--I thought we--” he shook his head again, rubbing at the flesh over his heart as it began to pound. He'd thought they had discussed this. He thought Maedhros trusted him. He thought his husband felt free to give himself over to Fingon, to give both of them that pleasure just as Fingon would yield himself completely to Maedhros...

"Findekáno, no!" Maedhros said, gut churning at that look on Fingon's face, that look of not just hurt or disappointment but betrayal. "Ai, no, Findekáno! Finno, my Finno, please," he begged, shaking his head as if it would rid him of every stupidity he ever clung to. "I'm sorry, so sorry, I--" He opened his arms. "Please, love, darling. I'm sorry. Of course I trust you, when I cannot even trust myself not to be an idiot. I love you." He leaned in, so Fingon had only to fall against him, if he would. "Breathe slower, please. If you can see my heart, see all of it. The part that knows better than to trust unmerited fear and base machismo. The part that is ashamed that I ever held such a backward belief. Findekáno, I love you. I trust you with my everything. Believe that. I'm sorry, so sorry I ever--please _breathe_!" At the last moment he pulled Fingon against his chest and squeezed him tightly, rubbing his spine up and down in soothing motions--if any comfort could come from him, if anything he touched was not immediately tainted.

Anything for you. “I’m sorry!” Fingon threw himself into Maedhros’ arms, holding him tightly with one while he continued to rub at his chest. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. Not fair. I’m sorry.” Slowly his breathing slowed though his heart continued to pound. He pulled back far enough to meet Maedhros’ eyes before ducking his head, ashamed.“I didn’t mean to, but if you caught my thoughts--I didn't mean to think that. I don't know why my mind would ever go there. I’m so sorry, Russ. I don’t want you to not trust me… and I’m not sure what I need to do to let you. And if we aren't alright, if something's wrong, please, please, please, venno, don’t lie to me. Don’t plan to lie to me.” He glanced up. “I don’t think it would even work with the bond. It would just confuse me and probably hurt both of us.” He slid his hand out from between them and embraced Maedhros fully. “I’m sorry,” he repeated in a whisper.

"Don't be sorry. I am at fault," Maedhros insisted, holding Fingon tightly, weeping angry tears into his hair. He took a careful breath. "I would not lie to you. I could not--I wanted to--I was _ashamed_ and I wanted to hide. I never want to lie to you. The lie is that you ever thought of me as someone perfect and incapable of hurting you. I am so sorry that I am not what I should be--for you." He gulped. "I'm sorry, too, that my ideas were so backward and barbaric--once. No more. You're right to bring up that time, that argument, that hurt, for these are not unrelated--though I hold these thoughts no longer. I was only--I am only--afraid--you see I am ashamed of this, too--I was afraid, and I--and instead of seeing us as equals I wanted to put you above me and I wanted it so badly--but that's wrong, too." He could do nothing but hold Fingon, hold him and his self-loathing.

"You're not perfect, Russ, but you're perfect for me." Fingon met his eyes, straightening up as he looked at his husband. "And you are, as ever, the best Elda I know. The best I have ever met." Fingon closed his eyes and, shaking, he opened himself up, brushed gently against their bond, until Maedhros opened it as well and their fëar could brush and mingle. "There," he whispered. "If you are ashamed, you must be ashamed of us both, if you loath yourself you must loath me, for we are nearly one. We _are_ one, Russ-- you said earlier you are incomplete without me, and I know I am only whole with you."

He turned his head, pressing a soft kiss into the crook of Maedhros' neck. "You're not barbaric. You were… misguided?" He shrugged. "We talked about it. It's fine. Equals, Russ, but it doesn't mean one of us can't relax and let the other take care of everything for a little while. Unless you're not comfortable with that? I thought you liked it as much as I did but… if you don't want games or… or ties or spanking or teasing names we, we don't have to do any of that." He pulled back, cupping Maedhros' face and meeting his eyes. He had felt Maedhros’ need, but if it was a desire he only liked in fantasies, if he was not comfortable with _Fingon_ , "We don't have to do _any_ of that Russ. If all you want is to curl up and read together and cuddle close during the night that's fine, that's good, I could be happy just being that close to you." He brushed at his eyes, roughly wiping away tears as he sniffled. "Don't want to hurt you. Or force you. Make you uncomfortable. I thought… if we're one what is yielding to me other than yielding to yourself? But if it makes a difference, if you think that's wrong, we can just… not."

"No, no, Finno. I want that. Oh, Valar, I want that. You wouldn't be forcing me into anything." Maedhros' breath now came in sharp pants. "I want--" he shuddered, but enough of hiding, enough of lying. "I want the games, just as you say, and I want to give myself to you, I want more than the play, I want you to beat me until I am reformed, tease me until my pride is gone, break me down and build me up again until I am not afraid of myself and until I can never hurt you again. I want to give everything to you. I don't want to be myself. That's what I'm afraid of!" he finished shrilly, and covered his face in his hands.

Fingon tucked Maedhros’ under his chin this time. When his husband was calmer, he gently removed his hands, tilting Maedhros’ head to face his own. “But I love you,” he whispered, curling his hröa and fëa about Maedhros and holding him, snuggling against him. “I love you. I don’t love who I think you should be, or who I think I might change you into if I tried. I love _you_.” He leaned forward slowly, hoping Maedhros would allow him a gentle kiss. He sighed, eyes sliding shut for several seconds as Maedhros acquiesced. “Give yourself to me, and I shall give myself to you in return. And if, by taking good care of you, by leaving our bond wide open, I can show you there’s nothing to fear, then I shall happily do so. But I… ahh… I….” and this was sounding like their first fight as well. He shook his head. “I can’t hurt you, Russ. I told you a long time ago, the first time you asked me to, that I could tie you up, tease you, spank you, even, or deny you pleasure as part of a game, as something done for the physical pleasure of the acts with no ties to reality. But--” he looked away, wiping roughly at his eyes again. “I’m afraid I must admit defeat and fail you in that part of your request. Please forgive me, beloved.”

"No," Maedhros said, moaning as one in pain. "No. You could not fail me. Do not entertain the thought. Only you can care for me better than I can care for myself. Only you know me better than myself. I am not afraid of this. I am not afraid of you." He drew in a shaky breath. "I'm sorry. I would understand if you did not want me, after all that. I hurt you. I am sorry. I--I failed you, by letting old fears get the better of me." He was weary. He was unworthy. He sat huddled, unable or unwilling (unworthy) to comfort Fingon.

Sliding off the couch Fingon knelt between Maedhros’ knees and bent until his forehead rested on his husband’s thigh. “You don’t get to take all the blame, venno. W-we’re equals, remember?” He shook his head a minute amount. “If I’ve done something to make you think I would not want you, then it is I who should beg forgiveness. You honor me by trusting me, by speaking to me, and by holding me and comforting me. By letting me comfort you. I--I told you the first time we ever really fought--do you remember?--that if you refused to listen to anything I said, if you wanted a one sided love life, even then I did not think I could bear to be parted from you.” Fingon rubbed at Maedhros’ thighs, needing a further point of contact between them. “You have my heart. My fëa is open to you. Look and see that I spoke truly. How then, could I ever bear to leave you, to not want you, to not need you, when you have proven the kindest and truest friend, the best listener and adviser, the most caring and loyal lover, the most dedicated, tender and amazing husband imaginable? How, when we know now that you are the other half of my fëa? I would fade, Russ, and all the world would grow dim around me. How can you ever imagine I could live without you? I would barely manage to survive.”

"If we are equal," Maedhros said, daring to smile between his tears, "then why are you on your knees?" He slid off the couch to join him, and took his hands in his. "I know you were not lying. I wish you had been. It would be better for you." He kissed the hands. "But I am grateful you were not. I am selfishly grateful that you would love me no matter my faults. I thank Eru for this daily, for my faults are prominent and painful. In return I can only give myself to you, my trust, my hröa and fëa, to you, to do with as you wish. Please--" he almost choked on emotion, "please accept me. I want it. I'm sorry for--sorry for everything. For spoiling the moment. Please take me."

“Mine,” Fingon whispered, leaning in and squeezing Maedhros’ hands in return. “And yours.” He pulled Maedhros into a lingering kiss. I wish you would see yourself as I see you. As _everyone_ sees you. The kindest Elda with children, the gentlest, the person everyone goes to with scraped knees or exciting discoveries. The cousin Ingoldo always wants to adventure with. The person Kano trusts his instruments with, and the first person Fëanáro goes to when he needs advice or a sounding board. The young negotiator all the lords and ladies wish to work with. The impressive chef. The ner who makes me feel like the most beautiful, most important Elda in Aman. The bright light who enters a room and makes everyone glow brighter for his presence. The careful, imaginative craftsman who made my pendant and my rings. Fingon shook his head and smiled, leaning their brows together. “As you are mine, I am yours. And you have spoiled nothing. You’re here, and we’re together. We’re married and bonded and enjoying our beautiful home. And it’s wonderful, Russ. And I am, as always, very much in love with you.”

Stop, Maedhros said, I can take anything but your kindness now, not after that. But he smiled shyly. "I love you," he said aloud, the only truth he was certain of, the only thought that didn't hurt. "Thank you."

"Inyë tyë-mela," Fingon murmured and kissed him again. "I love you. I love you." What would you have of me if not kindness? I can give you my love, my loyalty, my trust... I knelt at your feet but that did not please you... Fingon shifted, pulling his taller cousin onto his lap. "Would you like to look through one of grandfather's map books for a little while? We could curl up together and flip through one book and finish our wine, and then, if you want, we can visit our room." He closed his eyes briefly and shivered. Our room. Our bed. "Does this plan please you, arimeldanya?"

Maedhros nodded, looking pained. "If you--would you--yes," he struggled to say, but his heart was open. "I would love anything if you would--please." He stopped, frustrated with himself, and growled and started again. "You please me," he insisted, promised, upset that Fingon thought this was his fault. "All I can ask is that you take me now. Let me give myself to you, and take me as yours, rule me, guide me. I will be yours in every way, and if you govern me neither of us can be hurt." He looked into Fingon's eyes, his own shining, desperate for this to work out, desperate to hear him say yes, desperate to let go of himself. "I trust you. I don't trust myself. I will say yes to anything and enjoy it. I promise. Will you rule me? Please?"

“As I am yours _you are mine_ , Nelafinwë,” Fingon said, reaching out and stroking Maedhros’ hair. “And that means you are mine completely. Yes, I will guide thee tonight bring us pleasure. And I will hold you and take care of you and love you.  You needn’t worry about a thing-- relax, enjoy, and love me. That is all I ask, melda.” He kissed the tears from his husband’s face and squeezed Maedhros’ tight for a long minute. When he released him it was with a wistful sigh. “Soon,” he promised them both. “But for now, go pick a book of maps and bring it back. I’ll split the last of the wine between our glasses. Go on.” He smiled and kissed Maedhros and gave him a playful tap on the rump.

Maedhros released a shaky breath, feeling tension drain out of him--not all the way, but he felt better, and he nodded, smiling shyly. He was filled suddenly with an overwhelming desire to be _good_ , not perfect, but good enough for Fingon (even perfection was, ultimately, not good enough for Fingon). "Thank you. I'm sorry," he offered into the hug, arms curling loosely around Fingon's waist. He was pathetic like this, and _he_ didn't like himself like this, but he trusted Fingon to love and want him, anyway. He stood up, and looked around, disoriented for a moment, but he was home. He was home. He was with Fingon. The light smack on his exposed rear sent a rush of blood to his face and he twitched in interest and amusement, and he could walk, and he could smile, and he could take a book from the shelf and return to Fingon with it and offer it up to him.

Fingon resettled himself on the couch while he waited, sprawling in a corner and watching as Maedhros returned. "Thank you." He took the offered book and then, with a grin, grabbed Maedhros' arm and tugged his husband down. They ended with Maedhros half lying in front of him, upper back and head supported by Fingon. He kissed the top of his husband's head and, when they were settled, opened the book to find himself looking at a mountain range in the south. "Wonderful," he added in a whisper. "Very good, Doll. It's exactly what I was thinking of." He squeezed the arm wrapped around Maedhros and pressed his lips to his husband's brow.

Maedhros' legs were curled up against the edge of the too-small couch, but he still somehow felt small and cared for. Fingon's touch was warm and loving and soft and gentle, and even more of the tension (and hatred, for how could he hate himself when Fingon loved him so?) lifted out of him like fog. He didn't even mind being called "Doll." He was even sure he liked it. "Should I read?" he offered softly. There wasn't much to read: a few geographical notes, lists of botanical and geological guesses, and vague distances and estimated heights and things. This was an uncharted area.

"Mhmm. That's a wonderful idea." Fingon pointed to the area he wanted Maedhros to start at and watched from behind Maedhros. "And we should point out areas we want to visit," he added, smiling against his husband's skin.

"Yes, okay," Maedhros said, beginning to read of the soil composition--guesses only, from surrounding surveys and from distant views. The author had no idea how deep the valleys were, or what kind of plants and creatures inhabited it. It seemed silly to write a book of guesswork, and Maedhros stopped part-way. "They're not saying anything useful. We should just go, and rewrite the bulk of this section." He pointed to the margins, where there was even space for corrections, measurements, and numbers.

Fingon laughed happily. "You're volunteering to go on a long adventure with me? A fact finding, cartography focused quest deep into the wild and untamed south?" He squeezed Maedhros tightly and kissed him. "I love you so," he murmured. "Yes. Yes, I would like that. It sounds perfect. You chose a perfect book. Now, where should we start? Close to the coast or through one of the mountain passes here or here?" He pointed out areas on the map, waiting to hear Maedhros' preference.

"We wouldn't get much surveying done," Maedhros guessed, but he smiled. "Yes, of course. Who else would go with me?" He pondered the map and the subsequent pages. "We should start from the interior. Hit all these peaks in this order, and maybe some of our Teleri cousins can give us a boat ride back when we come out at the ocean."

"Perfect. We shall-- I don't know when we'll find the time, but I'm now determined to do this, so long as we go it together." Fingon reached out and leafed through the last few pages. They were silent for a time, studying the final sketch. "How are you feeling, venno?" Fingon asked quietly, playing with a few strands of Maedhros' hair.

"Fine. Better," he said. There were still things he felt he should voice, but he didn't know if they would ruin everything. "Are you all right? Can I--do anything for you?"

Fingon just watched him, brushing back a stray strand of hair as it fell across his husband's face. "Love me," he said quietly and kissed Maedhros' cheek. "Trust me." Another kiss, and, sensing that Maedhros was worried about something, "If you're willing, tell me what you're thinking." A final kiss and Fingon rubbed their cheeks together comfortingly.

Maedhros shook. "I don't want you to be mad. Or sad. I wanted to apologize and--and explain. Not excuse, but--" He paused, watching Fingon carefully, keeping his voice and face neutral. When Fingon nodded he took a deep breath and let it out. "I didn't mean that I still had these concerns. You must believe I know better now, in no small part through your instruction, but also through personally discovering the error of my thought. Misguided, you said. Unguided, more like. Anyway, that is over. What I--what I feared was--" he swallowed hard, "that you liked me strong and powerful and I was just--afraid--I was afraid you wouldn't like me to be weak and helpless instead. Not because I didn't want to give you that power. I like to do that. I only." He shrugged, blinking back tears. "It was foolish of me, and I'm sorry. I forgot what you said about us being equal, I guess. Or I thought you didn't mean it, not really. That's no excuse, but I was scared. I only want to be perfect for you, and I don't care what or how I am as long as you love whoever I am."

Fingon held Maedhros close and exhaled softly. "I love thee," he whispered, promised. "I love all of thee--I love thee strong and proud and I love thee trembling with desire and begging to please me. I like when you're excited and happy and serious and studious. I swear it on my fëa, Russ, if that is enough for you to believe." And my mind is yours tonight--I'll do my best to hold our bond open wide and whenever you want just look... And I promise you'll only see how very happy you make me, how much I desire you, how much I love you. Fingon squirmed, tangling their legs together as he pondered Maedhros' concern, having difficulty understanding how or why Maedhros would think so little of himself, or that he would not enjoy his husband yielding to him. He set the worry aside and focused instead on assuring his wonderful, beautiful, worried lover.

Maedhros shook his head, shifting to wrap his arms around Fingon in a desperate, clinging hug. Fingon was trying to ignore the real issue. "No, no, please," he said, "that's what I'm trying to say, it's not your fault, it's mine. It's nothing you've done, Findekáno, you must believe me. It's in wrongness of my own making that I think so. It's not anything you've done. And it's certainly not rational in me. Please believe me. I fear not being in control, and it makes me think and say strange things. Except, I'm not really afraid, because I want it. I want it with you. I'm sorry I'm so confused," (backward, stupid, wrong). "I know you will take care of me. You always have. And I know you love me." (And here he was, exactly what he most loathed, a sniveling, wretched, unlovable thing that only desired love and didn't know how to give it. He could only be grateful that Fingon did not hate him as much as he hated himself.) "Thank you." He sniffed, and there was silence. "I just want you to not worry yourself."

"Here-- turn from me, please?" Fingon guided Maedhros onto his stomach and wrapped his arms around his husband again. "You loved me even when I was injured and out of it, even when I was a crying whining child. You love me when I'm a sniveling wretched little thing don't you? And when you take control, when you hold me and redden my skin until I let go and scream and cry and press up against you for more-- you like that, don't you? Or do you wish I would be stronger and try to stay in control." He pressed their brows together and could not stop touching Maedhros gently and carefully. "I'm sorry, Russ. I'm not trying to ignore what you're saying, or act like it's not important. I just… I don't know how to help." He looked to one side, rubbing Maedhros' back slowly. "I don't like not being able to make everything better for you. You deserve better than that."

Maedhros took a calming breath and closed his eyes, focusing on where their skin touched. "You are making it better. You make everything better. Just by--I don't need you to do anything. Just understand, and love me anyway." I love you always, strong or weak--and I know you feel the same with me. "I know you always love me. It was just--stupid." He laughed bitterly. "You think I'd be over it. I have you all to myself in a house all to ourselves and I'm so worried I'm going to spoil it somehow and so that's what I do--I just spoil my own happiness." He sniffed, wiped his nose on his arm. "Thank you. I'm sorry." He sounded like a child but he didn't care. Fingon would love him anyway. "This feels good," he added.

"It does," Fingon agreed, tugging Maedhros' up a little higher and wrapping a leg around his husband's. "Hmmm. Our house. Our library. Our future…I do like the sound of that. Our marriage." He carefully pulled up Maedhros' hand and brushed a kiss against his knuckles, lips pressing against his wedding band. "And our future adventures. I'm already looking forward to traveling with you, climbing more mountains and finding new valleys. It will be wonderful, Russ. It will be fantastic… Tell me, would you like to stay like this for a few minutes, or are you ready to sit up and finish our water and the last couple sips of wine?"

"I can--I'm ready," Maedhros said, twitching slightly. "I enjoy being with you like this," he added quickly, slightly awkward, "but I would also like a drink. Please."

"Alright. We can sit up-- though I do love how you feel on top of me. You're warm, heavy, grounding… the best blanket around." He grinned at Maedhros and helped shift them to a seated position though he never stopped touching his husband and remained curled protectively around him. "Wine first, and then water." He grabbed their glasses, which were almost empty, and they finished the last of the wine.

Maedhros was--all right, he was being clingy, and he didn't give a damn. Fingon still had a vaguely haunted look in his eyes, and his skin felt cool, and Maedhros wanted to banish both. And maybe that was reflected in his own eyes, because he was lying to himself if he thought this was only for his cousin's benefit. He sprawled and tangled their limbs together, gulping at wine and water so they would impart the needed nourishment and be gone, not to come between them. "I like to feel you breathing and wriggling beneath me. I also like your weight firm and solid on me. I like to touch you." He blushed, because that was either stupidly obvious or comically low-brow.

Fingon moaned happily, pressing up against his husband. "Hmmm. I like that too. I love thee. And I ache for your touch." He kissed Maedhros but as they separated he placed his hands on his husband's shoulders, holding him back. "But I told you that I want you in our room, in our bed. If you're ready and you help me carry the dishes up I'll wash them and then we can go in search of our private rooms."

"Oh. Oh, yes. Please," Maedhros said, sitting up and beginning to stack dishes and cups, and in an instant he had everything on one tray and had stacked the trays. "I'm ready," he informed Fingon cheerfully.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Fingon pulled himself to his feet with a grumble and went to pick up the tray. "Off to the kitchen!" He giggled, ruining his pose, before they made their way back up the stairs.

"Shouldn't I carry that?" Maedhros asked, following him up.

"I thought I'd let you enjoy the view." Fingon glanced back at him and winked, before hurrying up the steps before Maedhros had any thoughts about stopping and thoroughly debauching each other on the stairs. His laughter trailed behind him as he made his way to the sink and started filling dishes with soap and water and washing out the glasses.

Maedhros rumbled with laughter as he followed Fingon up the stairs, and readied a towel to dry the dishes Fingon washed. "Thank you," he said. _He_ should be doing the dishes, until the end of time or until there were no more dishes.

"You did most of the cooking," Fingon reminded him, smiling. "It's my turn to help out. But if you'd do something for me… just a second, need to finish the last couple…" He soaped and rinsed a final plate and handed it off to Maedhros, moving to the open part of the kitchen. "Join me?" he asked, shrugging when Maedhros raised an eyebrow in question. "Please?" When Maedhros walked over Fingon wrapped his arms around Maedhros' neck and looked up at him. "Will you dance with me in your kitchen, melda? To our song?"

Maedhros' breath caught, and he smiled. "I already said I would be ruled by you," he whispered, coughing slightly as he began to hum. He slid his arms around Fingon's waist and began to sway.

Fingon closed his eyes and let Maedhros guide him, his expression one of joy. Slowly he joined in, humming their tune along with Maedhros as they slowly moved around the kitchen. Beautiful, he thought reverently, feeling Maedhros' fëa mingling with his own. This is beauty. This is peace. This is joy. Russandol thank you, thank you for making me the happiest Elda on Arda.

Thank you, Maedhros insisted. Thank you. Fingon's skin was warm and soft, and his eyes shone and-- "Your hair. May I plait your hair? Or just brush it." Brushing Fingon's hair always made him feel better, though he could not imagine feeling better than he did just now.

Fingon tilted his head, consider the request. Opening his eyes he looked up at his husband. "It would please me greatly.  I like it when you do my hair. Only, I think we'll have to find the den but agree to… ah… stake our claim there later. For as much as I like debauching one another all around the house, I'm intending our next time to be in our own bed." He went back to humming softly as he watched Maedhros. If that would please thee, then it shall be our new plan.

Maedhros nodded eagerly. "Yes, please." He liked when Fingon decided things, told him what to do. It was safe. "I would like that." He hummed to the end of the song, not hurrying their dance, and only when it was done he kissed Fingon. "To the den?"

"Carry me? Please?" Fingon looked up at him with large, hopeful eyes. He pressed up onto his toes and planted his mouth on his husband's. "Please."

"I would do anything you bade me," Maedhros reminded him. "But I do this with joy," he said, sweeping him off his feet and setting off in search of a den, by way of grabbing their things and taking them downstairs. They found it, past the library, and there Maedhros sat down on a couch with him and began to brush his hair.

"You're spoiling me again. But thank you." Fingon reached back, holding Maedhros' thigh lightly while his husband began working through his hair. "This is--ah-- really comfortable," he said with a yawn. The area was decorated in rich woods and brown leathers. The couches were soft and the Eldar sank into the cushions as they sat. There were card tables, games stored on shelves along one wall, and a square table that was also an elegant enameled chess board. "We'll have to spend more time in here later-- try out some of the games, perhaps play a little chess." He nudged Maedhros with his elbow. "I think I saw a go board as well."

"Oh hooray," Maedhros said with light sarcasm. He set down the brush to begin braiding Fingon's hair loosely, and he tied it with a small thread. "There. How's that?" he asked, settling back, not breaking contact.

"Feels good," Fingon said, running a hand along it. "Simple, but that makes sense since I'm planning on taking a long bath tomorrow morning. I'm guessing our rooms have a private bath, and I'm quite looking forward to trying it out." He squeezed Maedhros' leg. Especially since you'll be enjoying it with me.

Maedhros smiled. "Yes. Oh, yes," he said, beginning to twitch eagerly. "Please." He wanted to ask if they could go to the bedroom yet, but he did not want to presume.

Fingon shifted his hips settling back against Maedhros. "Is that a dagger in your trousers or are you just… wait, you aren't wearing any trousers, so you must just be happy to see me." It was a play on a line he had heard Turko use. A horrible line he had heard Turko use. He turned his head with a grin pulling Maedhros to him for a kiss. "Is your hair acceptable or the evening, do you think?"

"Rude jokes don't suit you," Maedhros said, grumping slightly. "And yes, my hair is fine." It had curled up adequately, and was mostly dry. "Er. Do you think it's fine?" (He wasn't very good at this whole giving up control thing, but he was trying.)

"I think it's fine for the evening. But I would have helped you redo it if it was going to bother you." Fingon leaned his head back against his husband's shoulder. "I want to take you to bed, melindo. I want to worship your hröa until you can't even speak to beg me for more, for release. I want to play along the edges of your fëa until you can think of no word but my name, and I want to show you yourself as I see you. I want to show you how strong and wonderful and kind and loving and handsome and perfect my husband is." He closed his eyes, hips rocking back against his husband a minute amount. "I want to see you flushed and trembling with desire. And I want to make you forget every fear, every doubt, every bit of shame or guilt you've ever felt. I want see you, on our bed, in a state of perfect bliss. And I want to finish with you, to draw us over the edge together and to sleep safe in your arms." He found himself relaxing completely, feeling safe and secure as he shared his desires.

Maedhros drew in sharp, uneven breaths listening to Fingon's speech, and he began to tremble, and he certainly began to react. A thousand scenarios ran through his head: it didn't matter which one because they were all Fingon. His heart thudded in his chest. "Uhn. Yeah. Uh-huh, please. I--want. Want to be good for you." His arms tightened around Fingon.

"Then stand up with me, kiss me, tell me you love me… and come to bed." Fingon stood as he spoke and offered a hand to help Maedhros up. You're very good for me, he thought. I often thought you were too good for me. Though with their bonding he started to see that they were instead perfectly suited to each other.

Maedhros smiled and practically leapt to his feet, crashing their lips together, overeager. "I love you! A thousand times I love you." I worship you. I am blessed by your love. Let me kiss your feet and sing songs of your praise. He took Fingon's hands and tugged. "Or, barring that, may we go to bed?"

Fingon laughed and squeezed his hand, sending Maedhros a flash of though where they were so excited he lifted Fingon off his feet and spun him about. “I’m ready,” he said happily, and then, more seriously, “I’m ready. And I love you. Let’s find our bedroom.”

They went upstairs, easily finding the entrance to their private chambers. The door that led in was inlaid with gold and silver and with shell the color of sunset. It depicted the mountain range over their valley during sunrise or sunset, with a deep blue stone used for the surface of the lake.  Either as a joke or in case Ambarussa came to stay, it had a very solid lock. Fingon turned to his husband. “Are you ready, meldanya?”


	12. Chapter 12

_They went upstairs, easily finding the entrance to their private chambers. The door that led in was inlaid with gold and silver and with shell the color of sunset. It depicted the mountain range over their valley during sunrise or sunset, with a deep blue stone used for the surface of the lake.  Either as a joke or in case Ambarussa came to stay, it had a very solid lock. Fingon turned to his husband. “Are you ready, meldanya?”_

"Yes," Maedhros breathed. Somehow, impossibly, his attention was dragged from Fingon to the door, beautifully and perfectly carved. Pushing open the door stole his breath. Lush silks, wrought metal, glowing jewels, embroidered pillows, pointed arches, ribbed vaulting, and stained glass. "Oh, Finno," he moaned, going weak in the knee.

Fingon reached out, holding Maedhros though his own breath stopped for a moment as he took in the room. Several deep breaths and long glances later, and he squeezed his husband's arm. "I want you on our bed," he murmured, gesturing through the large open doorway to the bedchamber. "I almost regret that we're already unclothed--I should like to see you undressing, leaving a trail of clothes as you walk to our bed." He reached up at brushed a kiss against Maedhros' cheek. Our amazing bed. "Get on our bed, and turn down the covers. I want you to relax on your back and wait for me. Alright?"

Maedhros barely heard, but he nodded. The bed was impossibly beautiful. The pictures had not done it justice. He was shaking as he approached, and shaking as he turned the rich blankets down to the foot of the bed. It was huge. He didn't gave to stretch diagonally across it as he did with most beds. He felt small as he lay down, head resting on an impossibly soft pillow. He looked up at Fingon, eyes shining.

"Beautiful," Fingon whispered. "You make it into one of the greatest works of art I have been blessed enough to have witnessed." He moved closer, trailing his fingers across his husband's skin. "You're so good for me, Russ. So wonderful. Can you feel what you're doing to me right now?"

Maedhros shivered, trying not to move, though he whined softly. And when he reached out, tentatively at first, he could feel Fingon's love and trust, and he looked _beautiful_ through Fingon's eyes, and the image on the bed reminded him--he could almost imagine he was on the peak of their mountain, where Fingon took him for the first time and where he felt safest, most loved, most treasured. He nodded dumbly. If Fingon was half as happy as he was right now--and he was, and more--then he was doing well.

"Good." Fingon took his hand and squeezed it as he looked through the nightstand. He grinned as he found what he was looking for and climbed onto the high bed, laughing lightly. Then he stopped and just gazed at Maedhros, meeting his eyes happily. For once Maedhros did not dwarf the bed. Instead the silks and satins and jeweled woods looked like they had been made for him and to highlight and compliment the gold in his skin and his coppery hair. "My beautiful boy."  He felt light, filled with his husband's memories and pleasure. "My perfect prince." He swung a leg over Maedhros waist, straddling him and grinning delightedly as he held up a bag. "I found toys. And since you trust me, and you're so good for me, I'd like to use them."

Maedhros felt his breath catch on his heart, which was swelling dangerously in his chest. He swallowed and tried to steady himself, but Fingon's praise was dizzying, and all he could manage was a nod, not trusting himself to speak. He shifted slightly, feeling his body react, but he wasn't nearly as embarrassed of it as he thought he should be.

"I'd like you to move your arms above your head and close your eyes- yes, just like that, perfect Russ." Fingon pulled out several lengths of satin material that appeared to have gold threads woven through it, strengthening it. He gently, but securely, attached two pieces to the headboard and then to each if his husband's wrists. "There-- how does that feel? Can you make a fist for me, darling? I want to make sure I'm not cutting off blood flow or otherwise hurting you. Never want to hurt you, arimelda. Tyë melin."

Maedhros nodded, demonstrating by closing his fist tightly before stretching his fingers out and tugging slightly. "'Sgood," he said, eyes still closed. And it didn't happen all at once, but with the tightness around his wrists and with Fingon's weight heavy and comfortable on him, his fluttering heartbeat slowed to steady, relaxed, deep thumps. His breaths came slow and even. "I know," he said, and he meant it. He could see inside Fingon's fëa with his eyes closed like this, and he knew. "Tyë melin," he answered softly. "Thank you."

Fingon responded by leaning in and kissing his husband slowly and tenderly. Anything for you, he thought. Everything for you. With Maedhros secure and content, he took the remaining pieces of fabric and just as carefully tied Maedhros' ankles to the footboard. His husband would be able to move a small amount and, Fingon hoped, would not be too bothered by the restraints. "There. Lovely. And you're being so good, Russ, and letting me take control, letting me get ready to pleasure us. Do you want to open your eyes, love? You can now, if you'd like." 

Though something coiled in his stomach akin to the thrill of fear, Maedhros' heartbeat remained steady, and his breath barely caught, more with desire than anything. He almost didn't want to open his eyes, but Fingon's voice and presence coaxed it out of him, and slowly his eyes fluttered open to the sight of beautiful Fingon strong and tall over him, glowing, hair and eyes shining as if with their own light. A sudden desire to touch Fingon's hair overwhelmed him, and his hand twitched, and he whimpered softly as he got no further than a few inches off the bed. "Want to touch you," he whispered--but contentedly, knowing Fingon would touch _him_  if he needed it, when he needed it--and if he didn't touch him then he didn't need it. Was Fingon's power so total, so complete? Did he trust him so much? There was only one answer to that, and he went still, feeling safe and content. 

"Later," Fingon whispered, running his fingers up Maedhros' stomach and chest. "Later I want to fall asleep on your arms. Do you remember how you would hold me when I was little and promise to guard me and to chase the dream monsters away?" He smiled and leaned down, catching his husband's lips. Maedhros was still and calm, though even relaxed it was clear he was very strong. And Fingon was caught be his eyes, bright and adoring, and suddenly he was hungry for more, for his husband, to have and to be had. He moved both hands, checking his husband's wrists and massaging his arms before returning his attention to his husband's torso. "Russandol," he moaned, running his hands over acres of smooth skin-- stomach and chest and broad, strong shoulders. "Russandoll. My doll."

At Fingon's touch Maedhros found himself straining at his bonds, though not actually struggling. "Ahh--uhh--" he sighed breathily. It tickled, kind of, or else he simply wanted to be active in the touching rather than passive. But it felt good, all of it, and he leaned up, begging for kisses and stealing them where he could. "Fin--" he gasped, throwing his head back and baring his neck as he canted his hips up. "You--" You look beautiful, he might have  said: but that was stupid. Fingon was everything, was perfection was love was life was breath, "Findekáno." 

"My Russ," Fingon breathed. "I'm here. Yours. You're mine." He made a trail of kisses up Maedhros' neck before finding his lips again. "It's... Good," he added. "Being held down--I can feel... You... What you're feeling." He hugged his husband and rocked against him with a breathy sigh. Thank you. Thank you. You're so good, Russ. Perfect, even. You make me feel complete. Better than complete. I feel like I could rise into the air and soar. Love this. I love you.

Maedhros bucked slightly, gasping open-mouthed kisses over whatever skin he could reach. "Ai, Fin," he whimpered, shifting (the way his legs were spread and he couldn't pull them together made him vulnerable), Fingon's every touch electrifying. Good. Yes. Perfect. I love you. Thank you. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for taking care of me. I-- "Fuck, Finno, I want you," he said, his resolve and calm breaking suddenly as he pulled himself up.

Yours, Fingon swore. I'm yours. As you're mine, I'm yours. "Russ!" Fingon wrapped his arms around Maedhros' back, holding him up slightly where he was curling up from the bed, arms stretched behind him."My Russ. Beautiful Russ. I love thee, darling. You're so good to me. So good for me." He peppered kisses along Maedhros' cheeks and chin and mouth. Eventually he brushed their noses together and pulled back, gently stroking Maedhros' back. "You'll have me. I promise. But if you'll let me, I told you that I wanted to worship you first. Is that alright, doll? Will you be alright if I take time to worship your hröa before we join?"

"Don't ask me, please," Maedhros gasped. His heart and body settled, and his eyes were pleading but resolved. "Don't ask--just--I already gave myself to you. I already promised, didn't I?" He strained to press a reverent kiss to Fingon's jaw. "Even in my weakest moment, I may be scared, I may say things I don't mean, but I trust you. If you believe in nothing but my love, believe in my trust: if you won't, I certainly can't."

“As you wish,” Fingon whispered, nuzzling him. “I want you happy and content. I want you to relax and enjoy this, so if you don’t want me to keep asking, I’ll just do. But you can always tell me to stop.” He kissed Maedhros and sat back, watching him. “Please trust me a little, though, while I set things up. Now, I’m not leaving you. I’ll never leave you. But I want to see if I can get… I have a feeling, but just give me a minute to see if I can grab a few extra things for us.” He slid off the bed, eyes focused on Maedhros as he made his way to the washroom door, picking up a bucket next to it and slipping inside.

Maedhros nodded and lay back, though he gulped and couldn't help his nerves at the distance between them. But he trusted Fingon. He was determined to show that trust, and not just say it. I can still feel you, he told Fingon, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, letting the haze of Fingon's fëa wash over him.

Good. I’m here. As you’re mine, I’m yours, and I will always be here with you. They had not tested the range of the bond, but Fingon imagined, even if it were stretched to a tiny thread, he would never truly be alone again. That would be… cruelty beyond measure and was not something their parents seemed to go through when they traveled separately. He grinned, looking around the exquisitely decorated and designed room as he began heating the bucket of smooth, round stones. He took a pine scented oil from the shelf and, after a short time, he made his way back into the bedroom silently thanking Fëanor for his inventions and his thoughtfulness. “How are you feeling, beloved? You trusted me with yourself, and I wish to bring you pleasure, so I’m going to continue now.”

Maedhros nodded, eager. "Feel good," he said softly. "I'm ready," though he would want Fingon to continue regardless.

Fingon carefully placed the small stones, warm without being painfully hot, down the center of his husband’s chest and stomach. “It’ll be better when I can place them down your spine. Though for tonight I quite like you right where you are, nice and open and unable to do anything but enjoy. Hmm. Do think we could do a… well, a day of pampering here soon? Hot rocks, the hot bath and sauna, massages, you could put the golden threads in my hair… things like that?” He reached for the oil and took off the lid, holding it close to Maedhros’ nose. “Here--what do you smell?”

After blushing at Fingon's description of him (blushing and rousing, for he enjoyed being so vulnerable for Fingon). Maedhros inhaled from the bottle. The stones were making him sweat, but the oil masked any smell. "Rosemary. And--a kind of mint?"

“Mhmm. And pine. Now, I know you’re going to lay back and enjoy this for me, but I also want to make sure you’re as relaxed as possible. I’ll worship you, arimelda.” He made the promise lightly, kissing Maedhros chastely before pouring oil over his husband and beginning to work it into his arms, and then down to his shoulders and torso, careful not to dislodge the stones. He hummed lightly as he worked, snatches of their song and of music they had danced to at the wedding and long ago at the betrothal party their siblings had thrown. He smiled at the thought, lightly kissing areas of skin once they had the oil worked into them and any tightness worked out.

Somehow Maedhros wondered if this was entirely correct, this situation. He was tied to the bed--he was supposed to be teased mercilessly, wasn't he? Or, something. And here Fingon was being perfect to him. Fingon was spoiling him. Another aspect of his husband he wasn't sure he deserved. He was warm where the stones touched him and cool where the oil was rubbed into his skin, and just right wherever Fingon's hands were. Maedhros continued to watch Fingon as he worked, moving and humming over him, but Fingon worked him into a kind of trance, where his body was entirely lax and his eyes barely open, a gentle smile on his face.

When Fingon looked up from the end of the bed Maedhros appeared on the verge of sleep, quiet and lethargic. Fingon grinned and bent down to where he had his husband’s foot in his hands. He took the largest toe into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it as he watched Maedhros. You falling asleep on me, vennonya? You look… you look well. You look very good. And have I mentioned that you look delicious? Delectable? Good enough to eat? His laughter chimed along their bond as he enjoyed just being with Maedhros, caring for his hröa and teasing him gently.

"Oh--ohh," he groaned, eyes opening wider as it turned out he found the toe-sucking quite erotic. He shifted like his didn't know where his body ended. "Not going to sleep," he insisted. Just quiet. Calm. Cared for. Under a spell. He went still again.

Fingon shivered, loving this new aspect of Maedhros that he was seeing, loving how Maedhros was willingly relaxing, not tensed or fighting the bonds. I wouldn't be upset if you did fall asleep, though I can't promise you I wouldn't tease you about it later. He slowly set Maedhros' foot down and crawled back up the length of his husband's body. "One day soon, we'll play a bit more roughly on this bed, vennonya. I'll spend across you while your hand reddens me, and I'll have you begging while I use my hand on you. But for now... for now I just want you quietly needing, growing ever more comfortable and ever more desperate for release." He sat back down, squirming slightly over Maedhros' arousal as he straddled Maedhros' waist, and he bent down to kiss him. Fingon's eyes slid shut as he pressed against the still warm stones. You feel amazing, doll. I think I'll steal a hundred kisses just like this.

Maedhros nodded. He could do that. That sounded good. More than that, it was what Fingon wanted, and nothing calmed and comforted him more than this, more than giving total control even of his desires to Fingon, whom he trusted more than himself with himself. The kisses melted him until he could hardly kiss back than with the finesse of a child, and Fingon's skin tingled where they touched. He whimpered softly in appreciation and delight.

Perfect, Fingon thought, desire growing with each small sound Maedhros made... You are good. You are wonderful and perfect and you make me feel amazing. Tyë melin, vennonya. Fingon continued to kiss him, moving slightly against his husband's body before dragging him into kiss after kiss. Thank you. You're so good, doll. So good beloved.

Maedhros could feel more of himself falling away like layers or walls or flower petals, until he was more than open, exposed, naked: he was unmade. Fingon could line the pieces of him out in neat little rows and take his time having his will with each. Maedhros' fëa was sundered into thoughts, feelings, will, memories, loves, hates, fears, hangups, desires. And even that hardly compared to what was being done to his hröa: his body was pleasantly on fire, that it tickled but did not burn. He was amorous but helpless, waiting on Fingon's pleasure, and it was a good place to be. Thank you, thank you, thank you, were all the words he knew, and even they were wholly inadequate and he was ashamed to say them.

"I can feel it," Fingon whispered between kisses. "What you mean. I feel it too. And don't worry, don't feel bad. You're perfect, remember?" He kissed Maedhros slowly and thoroughly before finishing, "Perfect and precious and mine." When the were both almost burning with desire he pulled back and began to move back down his husband's hröa, removing stones as he went and pressing his lips reverently to the place where each one had rested. I love you, his hröa and fëa sang. You're mine and perfect and I'm yours and I love you.

Fingon's lips felt cold after the heat of the stones, and Maedhros made soft, needy noises at each touch. Yours, he thought. He knew that word, too. Mine. He was less sure of that one, because then he would have to reorganize who he was and what was his, so he let that hang. One foot kicked impatiently, but otherwise he was still, eyes watching Fingon's descent down his body.

Fingon did not press the issue. Instead he smiled up at Maedhros before focusing on his husband's arousal. Fingon took Maedhros within his mouth, holding him gently for a moment that stretched out before he willingly, lovingly swallowed him down. My Russ.

Maedhros tried to look, tried to watch, but the first earnest touch of lips to cock had him groaning obscenities to the ceiling and pulling at his bonds. "Oh, Fin, Fin," he whimpered.

That's it. That's my good boy. I want to hear you, Russ. Want you to make noise. He swallowed again around Maedhros before pulling back. "We're in our bed, in our room, in our house and our valley. This place is ours and this time is ours. And you can let go." He paused before taking Maedhros into his mouth again. I promise I'll catch you, he thought, and he descended to swallow his husband again.

Maedhros whimpered again, slightly louder, but still holding back, still--he didn't want to hold back, but he didn't like how he sounded when--it was embarrassing, and he turned red in the face. "Ai! Ai, Fin, I--" he bit his lip. I know you'll catch me if I--when I fall. But-- He cried out as Fingon swallowed, and bucked.

Fingon smiled as much as he could with his mouth full, and hummed contentedly. While a part of him wanted to make Maedhros beg for Fingon to take him, he wanted this to be about his husband. And if Maedhros wanted to not have to be in control, to not make any decisions, Fingon very much wanted to give him that. He gently ran his hands up and down Maedhros sides until he was forced to pull back again, eventually releasing Maedhros with a small pop. "You know, Russ, it's rather amazing. You can move around a bit right now, but someday perhaps we'll tie you up just a little tighter, and I won't have to worry about holding you down at all. I'll be able to just feast on you for however long it pleases me to do so. And you'll lie there and moan and whine and take it." He cocked his head and grinned, ducking down but changing his course and licking at the V of Maedhros' abdomen instead of his desire, eyes never leaving his husband's.

"I--uhhh--" Maedhros gulped and shifted. "Yes--mm--please." He watched Fingon watching him for a moment before he decided Fingon must be teasing him, and taking a few urgent breaths: "If I'm louder, will you--? Is that what you want from me?" he almost demanded.

"It's alright, beloved. You're perfect. You're doing so well." Fingon rubbed at his husband's hips placatingly. "Don't want anything but your pleasure, Russ. I told you that I want you so relaxed you can barely move and so desperate you can't even beg for release." He kissed one hip lovingly, and then the other. "Tyë melin, vennonya," he murmured, nuzzling mere inches from where Maedhros wanted him. "Of course, if you want to, you're free to scream."

Maedhros settled, though his breath was still faster than before, his heart rate increased to match his arousal. "But," he complained, shifting and squirming before going still and pressing his lips together: "Screaming won't--help," he said, almost petulant, though of course he didn't know, he'd never tried. "Please, Fin," he begged, "tyë melin, tyë melin--I--I'm begging--you--" He trembled slightly.

Fingon swallowed him again, humming contentedly and pulling off before Maedhros could finish. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me, Russandol? How close I am just from touching you, tasting you, hearing you." He licked a broad swipe up Meadhros before teasing the head lightly with his tongue. I could do this for… well, I don't know if I can do it for hours before my need for thee grows to great to ignore. But I love this. "I love you," he breathed. "I love you and I love having you open before me. You look… exquisite, Russandol. Open. Vulnerable. Mine." Fingon took Maedhros back within his mouth briefly before shifting up, gazing at him and moving to Maedhros' side, gently beginning to brush aside the hairs that had fallen across his husband's face, clinging to sweaty skin.

Maedhros whined and gasped and let a whole myriad of small needy noises escape him as Fingon teased him. "Ai Fin fuck!" he cried suddenly, pulling against the restraints. But he was vulnerable, open. He was Fingon's, to do with as he pleased. And as Fingon crawled softly up his body he trembled as before a god. "Please, please," he begged, turning toward Fingon. "Need."

"How can you expect me to tease you when you beg so prettily," Fingon murmured, fingers dancing along Maedhros' cheek and jaw. He leaned in, kissing his husband's cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his eyelids before finally bringing their mouths together, the only place where they touched. "I love you, darling. I want to have you. I want you to have me. But you're so quiet, darling. You make the smallest sounds, so pretty, so delicate. Soft. Want to be inside you. Want to ride you." Fingon laughed and shook his head, shifting to lay it on his husband's chest. "I don't even know what to do right now. There are so many options, all of them wonderful, and you leave me barely unable to think." He blinked up at Maedhros, drawing soft circles along his husband's chest and shoulder with one hand.

Maedhros quieted, submitting to the sweet torture. "Findekáno, please. Take me. Would you?" he squeaked, and wriggled, hips canting up. "Please, I want to feel you in me. I ache for it. Y-you've got me, right--however you want me. Do you want me?"

"Always," Fingon whispered seriously. "Always, Russ. I promise." He sat up, reaching to the nightstand for an unscented oil and curled up against Maedhros. "Anything you want," he added, circling a wet fingertip over Maedhros' entrance. "Do you still feel stretched from earlier? Will you let me just slip within you?" He tried, pressing a finger easily into his husband and soon adding a second. "You feel amazing, melindo. You spoil me. You make me so happy. You're so good, so lovely."

Maedhros' breath hitched as the finger slipped in him so easily. He didn't deserve any of this, and while the realization nearly made him sick, nearly made him remember his fear from earlier and the mess he had caused, Fingon's words comforted and bolstered him. "You _make_ me," he answered in a whisper, unafraid, and then: "please, I want to feel you in me. Yours, remember? Always ready for you."

"Russ--oh my Russ." Fingon shook his head, adding a third finger briefly before shifting to lie above Maedhros. "You're so perfect, so thoughtul, so beautiful. You're my world." He guided himself to Maedhros’ entrance, careful now, as his husband could barely move. "Tyë melin. Tenn' amber metta I am yours, arimeldanya." He sank slowly into his husband's heat, unable to look away from Maedhos' face. My husband, my only, I love thee. Beyond the breaking and remaking of Arda I love thee.

He couldn't tell what it was: his body stretching around Fingon's sex, or the entire game leading up to this, or Fingon's praise or the mention of the end of the world, or the fact that he could _feel_ Fingon's love as much as he could feel his cock--but Maedhros wailed, not in pain but in relief, in release of what little left to him that he had pent up. "Ai, Findekáno!" he cried. "Please yes more I love you, tyë melin, tyë melin, fuck, tenn' ambar metta I love you, yours, yours." It felt like he was being born.

“Mine,” Fingon growled, pulling back slightly and thrusting in. Maedhros was perfect. He was moving. And Fingon couldn’t stay still with the way his husband was speaking. “Mine. And yours. Venno. Valar, vennonya. My own. My love. My life. My light. Perfect. Please--want to hear you. Tell me anything, what you want, what you’re feeling…” He ducked his head, sucking a line of bruises along Maedhros’ collarbone. “Talk to me, doll. Or tell me what to do to make you scream.”

"My--" Maedhros gasped, pulling against the bonds and beyond caring how loud he was, "touch me, please? Please, want to--come need to finish but--when you--only when you--" he babbled. He shivered, opening his mouth in a silent scream when Fingon struck him inside, in that place that had him blind with desire, and then his scream gained breath and volume. "Fin, please!" He bucked wildly, probably ruining the rhythm, but if he did he didn't notice. "Will you--touch my hair or--my mouth--" Findekáno's lips were already doing a number on him. "Oh Eru do whatever you want just have me! Hard!"

“Yours,” Fingon grunted, speeding up his movements to just the right side of too rough. “Yours.” He kissed Maedhros deeply, and then pulled back, tugging on his husband’s hair to get his attention. “But I’m not--" he broke off, shaking his head. He wasn’t ready for Maedhros to finish, but he wanted his husband to completely let go. He smiled, unwinding a leather tie from Maedhros’ hair. “I’m not ready for you to finish, darling. Not yet. Not until my seed is deep within you and I’m riding you. Not until you can release deep within me, where only you have ever touched me.” He tied Maedhros at the base, tightly enough to stop him from finish and to allow Maedhos to move and to feel without focusing on controlling his need. “There. Beautiful. Mine. All tied up and spread out just for me. My perfect prince. Anvanya vennonya. Melda Maitimo. My prince, my love, my darling.”

Maedhros whimpered, straining and squirming, world spinning as Fingon bound him so completely, so totally to him, that he could not even have his pleasure unless Fingon gave it to him, unless Fingon allowed him to. His breaths were uneven, chest heaving, but he nodded. "Yours." Beyond the angry coil in his stomach that demanded release there was a pleasant warm layer where Fingon ruled him and he liked it, and beyond that was a golden promise of spending himself inside Fingon and only after Fingon had filled him. It was debauched. It was delicious. "Please. Please fill me, mark me, own me."

Fingon was panting, thrusting in as fast and hard as he dared while Maedhros was tied to the bed. “All you-- all you had to do was ask,” he panting. “All you ever had to-- Yours. Yours. Tyë melin… Russ!” Fingon clung to his husband as he spent within him, sweating and shaking and caught by Maedhros’ loving gaze. He shivered, undone by their joined emotions, by the physical sensations, by Maedhros’ unending and unwavering love. For a minute he collapsed half on Maedhros, barely avoiding his husband’s throbbing desire. Closing his eyes he focused on catching his breath, continuing to cling to his husband.

He wasn't sure how it was possible, but Maedhros was content like this. It was as if his own desire, his own need didn't matter at all, and Fingon's satisfaction was enough for the both of them. After all, he had Fingon warm against him. What else did he need, really? He sighed, and whimpered only softly. "Love you," he said, though he realized that his hips were shifting restlessly. "Thank you. Thank you," he said also, feeling warm and filled and wet with Fingon's seed, Fingon's gift.

“Love you. Welcome. Yours.” Fingon squeezed Maedhros tightly before pushing himself up with a sigh. One hand strayed down to brush across Maedhros’ straining hips, and against his erection. “Thank you. You’re so good to me, Russ- and so good for me. You’re such a good boy; such a perfect prince.” He licked his lips and kissed Maedhros, before moving to reach for more oil and pouring it generously over Maedhros’ arousal. Then, still stroking Maedhros’ length, he moved his free hand behind himself for a cursory preparation; one he barely believed was needed when he still felt so open from their previous joining on the guest bed.

Maedhros gaped. "A-already?" He wasn't complaining, but-- "Can you? I--I thought you would spend with me--again." He glanced away, not wanting to assume, and not wanting Fingon to stop, either.

“Again?” The word came out half as a question and Fingon bit his lip. “Yes. Anything for you. Spend… while you’re in me? Or do you want me inside you again after?” He straddled Maedhros and sank onto his husband, groaning at the burn and the pressure until he was fully seated. “Russandol,” he moaned, bracing himself with his hands on Maedhros’ shoulders.

"I want--want--" but Maedhros groaned as Fingon's hot wet tightness wrapped around him, and he squeezed his eyes shut. It was perfect. Too much perfect. Fingon's hands felt red-hot on him, and he held still and held his breath until Fingon began to move. "Want to taste you," he blurted out, his voice breaking.

Fingon’s eyes flew open wide as he immediately envisioned scooting up the bed and kneeling over Maedhros, thrusting gently into his mouth while he was still tied and spread. “Russandol! Oh, my love, so good, so clever. I want that. I want that too.” He lifted one hand to stroke through Maedhros’ hair, continuing to move over Maedhros and whimpering as he dropped down at a perfect angle. It was almost too much, probably too soon, but he continued to move over Maedhros, kissing him and eventually bracing himself on his forearms so that he could bury both hands in his husband’s hair.

Maedhros flushed and dared to smile. "Kiss me? Findekáno, please," he begged, craning his neck to Fingon's lips. He imagined his mouth swelling with Fingon's arousal--as much as he could, with Fingon's body sliding up and down his sex absorbing most of his thought and senses. "Oh! Fin," he panted.

“My prince,” Fingon moaned. His hips stuttered as his body fought to rise again. “Feels-- feels…” intense good too much not enough Russ Russ Russ. Fingon took his husband’s lips again and swiveled his hips in a circle, tightening around Maedhros. “Ho-how close? Are you ready t-to finish?”

Maedhros' entire body was tight with the need to release, and he gasped, unable to breathe out except with a loud "FUCK!" as Fingon worked witchcraft on him. Dizzy, weak, straining, Maedhros nodded. "Please, Fin, please let me. So good, you're so good," he whimpered, breath hitching and chest heaving. I'll scream for you, he promised.

Agreed. Fingon reached back, continuing to move over Maedhros, and carefully untied the cord. “Mine,” he growled. “My husband. My Aldu and stars. My prince. Tyë melin. I’m yours as you’re mine and I love you!”

"Ah, ah, ah," Maedhros whined in anticipation and relief as Fingon's hand wandered down and freed him. "Yes--mm--please, please," he cried, voice growing louder, needier, hips rising to meet Fingon erratically. "Need--yours--mine--love--fuckFindekánocloseclosecloseFINDEKÁNOOOO!" he shrieked, voice pitched high and lungs screaming as he arched off the bed, lifting them both as he spent.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Fingon continued to bounce on Maedhros, riding him through his completion and shuddering Maedhros spent. “I can-- I can feel… every time…. you inside me, splashing against me. Gifting me with your essence. You, held deep in the innermost part of me.” Fingon bent down as his movements slowed rubbing a hand along Maedhros’ trembling arms and seeking out his lips again. “I love thee,” he breathed and squeezed Maedhros tightly.

"Love--love you," Maedhros gasped, eyes closed as he fell back to the bed, exhausted and glistening with sweat. "Tyë melin. Tenn' am--ambar metta." His limbs shook faintly with overstimulation. He felt warm and safe inside Fingon, and with Fingon on top of him. It was a paradox. It was beautiful.  "Feelsgood," he murmured, "safe. Thank you."

"Love you," Fingon answered. He shook his head. "Thank _you_ , Russ. You're... you're perfect. You're everything I could want in a spouse and more. I love thee. I adore thee." I always have and always will. He did his best to massage Maedhros' arms without moving from where he rested atop Maedhros. "Are you... ah... are you alright like this, if you let me into your mouth next? Or do you need me to untie you? I don't want you hurting or uncomfortable. Anything you need, melda, anything you want, just let me know."

Maedhros shook his head. "’s alright. Feels good," he answered. He was not tied tightly, and even if he were, he enjoyed this and didn't want it to over. "Please, I long for the taste of you," he begged softly. "When, ahh, when you're ready." He nuzzled against Fingon, unhurried.

"This is nice," Fingon whispered. He tightened around Maedhros, who was softening within him. "You're wonderful, vennonya. I'm not quite ready to move." He liked being pressed along Maedhros from his hips to his shoulders, liked the pseudo embrace they could achieve even with Maedhros spread out and tied. He hummed contentedly. "Later I'm going to fall asleep in your arms in our bed, and it will be beyond perfect."

"Mm," Maedhros groaned in approval. "Please," he gasped. "Don't think I could fall asleep any other way." He bent his knees as if he might curl them around Fingon. "Love you. Thank you."

"Yours," Fingon promised. "Forever." He kissed his husband languidly, hands moving down to stroke through Maedhros' hair as his husband slipped from him. Fingon whined softly in complaint and shifted his hips, pressing himself against tightly Maedhros' stomach. "Maitimo."

Maedhros also whined at the loss of contact, but Fingon was holding him so sweetly and was already taking such good care of him he could hardly complain. "Love you. Thank you. Findekáno." He wanted to sleep like this, he was so comfortable. Was that weird?

At length Fingon pushed himself up, sliding slightly up Maedhros' torso while he continued to kiss his husband and run gentle hands through his hair. "I'd like to have your mouth now, beloved."

Maedhros' heart fluttered in excitement. "Oh, please, oh yes please," he panted, letting his jaw relax in anticipation.

"My Russ," Fingon murmured softly as he shifted higher on his body. The position was strange, but for the moment he just wanted to join with his husband. And then to bring Maedhros to release a second time. "Ready?" He pet Maedhros lovingly as he slipped into his warm, wet, welcoming mouth.

Maedhros opened his mouth and throat, gagging slightly as Fingon pushed inside. The position was awkward, and they tried a few angles before Wait wait stop, he said across their bond and made a noise. When Fingon was clear, and before he could get worried, "It's okay--turn around. Try the other way." Then with his head back, Fingon could slide down his throat rather than hitting against the back of it.

Fingon moaned as he suddenly slid deep. "Fuck! Oh! Oh Russ! Russandol!" He fell forward, catching himself on the bed. "Russ," he said softly and then smiled, realizing his lover was within reach in the position. He leaned forward and licked a long stripe up him to see how Maedhros would respond.

Maedhros gulped and gagged, spit running down his chin as Fingon filled his mouth and throat, and he groaned at how delicious it all was. He thought he was in heaven until Findekáno licked a stripe up his sex and he saw stars. 'Oh, fuck, Fin!' he cried, or would have if his mouth and throat hadn't been full. As it was he cried out, and groaned, hips snapping up.

Later, if you want, Fingon teased before losing himself to what they were feeling. Russ, he thought desperately. My husband. My light. Can't think, can't-- He trembled, moaning around Maedhros as he shook above him. Russ! He squeezed his husband's thighs, needing something to ground himself with. He felt like he was spinning, falling, flying, like he and Maedhros were the only stable things in the world and he clung to his husband gratefully, relishing every inch of skin that touched, every way in which they were connected, and the two warm circular spots where their pendants were pressed between them.

Maedhros did the best he could while unable to move his head, so really Fingon did all the work and he was just a hole for Fingon's pleasure--and he kind of really liked that. Not that he could, probably, concentrate on technique the way Fingon was tormenting him so gloriously. He squirmed and squeaked and bucked, often forgetting to breathe the few times when Fingon's sex did not obstruct his breathing, and his vision began to gray around the edges. He groaned, loudly and obscenely, but gave only obligatory tugs against his bonds: they grounded him and he was very much glad they were there in case he floated off the bed.

Close, Fingon thought sometime later, surprised because everything was good and right and he had thought they could continue this forever. He pulled off momentarily, nuzzling at Maedhros' short hairs. "Melda Maitimo," he growled. "Want you to spend soon, vennonya. Arimeldanya." He moved back of Maedhros almost collapsing against Maedhros' stomach as his husband moaned around him.

Want to taste you, Maedhros replied, as if to say: You, first. He gasped around Fingon as he slid faster in and out of him. He was gagging less, but his cheeks and chin were shining with spit and precome and that thick saliva from the back of his throat. He wanted to wipe it away, but the filth only reinforced his helplessness, and that made his insides tighten with lust. He groaned to the tune and rhythm of Fingon's hips.

Mine, Fingon thought, grinding down against Maedhros. He would do anything for his his husband, and finishing that Maedhros might taste him was hardly a difficult desire to fulfill. Yours. Always. Anything. Fingon let out a strangled moan, half choking on his husband's desire. Mine, he added. Mine. My own. My darling. My love. My light. My everything. He was moving faster now, forcing an increase of speed because Maedhros could barely move. Please, please, please, yespleaseRussnowyesValarfuck _Russ_! Then he was pulling halfway off Maedhros to breath and spending, shuddering, clutching Maedhros tight enough to bruise. Russandol, yes, please!

Maedhros' throat felt raw and abused, but all he thought to complain about was that Fingon spent so far down his throat that he didn't get to taste as much of his seed as he wanted to. He gulped him down, suckling gently as a babe, and moaned his appreciation softly. Thank you, thank you, he said, and only after the haze of Fingon's bliss (like a balm to his fëa) dissipated did he remember his own arousal, suddenly urgent. He squeaked and snapped his hips forward, begging.

Yes, Fingon thought, swallowing Maedhros with a huff of laughter. Yes, yours, please. Let me pleasure you. Let me please you. Let me complete you.” He moaned around his husband, still enjoying his position of Maedhros and the way his husband continued to tease him gently after he spent. Love you. Will you finish for me darling? Please. Please finish. Want to taste you. Want to swallow your essence. Want to kiss you again.

Maedhros did not need to be told twice. With Fingon still in his mouth, and with Fingon's mouth still on him, he keened and jerked and came hard and long (where did it all come from?) and his body went rigid and he lifted off the bed. When he was finished (Fingon stroked him all the way through), he fell back to the bed, as if from a great height, and went limp, gasping, and shivered, and lay still except for where he trembled faintly, covered in a sheen of sweat.

Fingon held him in his mouth until his husband had softened. Loath to move he simply slumped onto Maedhros, slick skin sliding against slick skin, and finally resting his head on his hip. “Thank you,” he whispered roughly. “Thank you.”

Maedhros still trembled, dazed with bliss, chest heaving for air enough to lift Fingon up and down, up and down. Thank you, he said, not trusting his voice.

I love you. Fingon tilted his head far enough to kiss Maedhros’ hip softly before pillowing his head there and continuing to rest. And indeterminable time later he sighed and squirmed around until he was lying face to face with his husband, blanketing his body. “My perfect boy,” he whispered. Then, after a pause, he spoke lowly and reverently. “My lord husband.” He reached up, hands sliding up Maedhros arms to his tied wrists. “Would you have me untie you, prince?”

Maedhros' breath hitched, his body tensing. He shook his head faintly: "I said--don't ask me, please," he reminded him with shining, pleading eyes, licking his lips where his face was still covered in filth. "D-do _you_ want to untie me?"

“I’m--uh…” Fingon hesitated, glancing around the room and squirming slightly, as though his first instinct had been to curl up though he was unable to do so in his current position. “I don’t-- I didn’t plan more. I don’t want to demand, to ask… I thought you would enjoy this--” but I don’t want to carry it on too far. Don’t want to displease you. Don’t want the ties to bruise you or leave you sore. And I’m yours also, my prince. He worried his lip with his teeth, trying to come up with an adequate response.

Maedhros shook himself, as if from a long and restful sleep. "You can untie me if you're through with me," he teased wryly. It was an effort to exercise his own will again, but he couldn't ask for more than what Fingon had already given him. "But you know I think I could live happily bound to this bed with my only task to obey and to please you." He caught Fingon's gaze carefully. "Thank you, Findekáno. For this--for everything. I enjoyed it. You could not possibly carry me to a place where I would not wish to go."

“Thank you,” Fingon whispered, licking at Maedhros’ face where he hadn’t managed to clean it and beginning to untie his hands. “Someday,” he added softly, “if you want--if you’re sure--we can talk about it before, and I could leave you like this for the night. But tonight I would like your arms wrapped around me, holding me, if you are willing.” He pulled back to meet Maedhros’ gaze. Is that good?

"I would have found it near impossible to sleep without you in my arms," he whispered, lifting his head boldly and taking Fingon's tongue in his mouth in a filthy kiss. As one hand came free he laughed and wiped at his chin before circling it around Fingon, holding him loosely but never letting go. His limbs felt heavy and stiff, but he didn't even look at them as they came free--only used them to wrap around Fingon. "Oh. You'll have to get the blanket," he said, reaching blindly. "Or I could be your blanket," he suggested with a grin. "And when we wake up," he added, "we can see our mountains and our valley." He nodded at the headboard.

Fingon trembled at the thought and might have cried. "It's wonderful," he said softly. "We--we have to find some way to thank your father for this. It's incredible. And yes, as long as you're warm enough you'll be a perfect blanker," he added with a smile. He did sit up for a moment to offer a glass of water to Maedhros to ease his throat, taking a long sip himself. "Thank you. For all of this, and for tonight. It was... I enjoyed it. Everything. This, and before-- the shower and reading with you and laughing and running through the guest rooms." Fingon couldn't stop smiling as he snuggled close, eyes drawn time and again to his husband.

Maedhros laughed, light and easy as a child. He felt so happy, so free of all burdens after their play--only to be filled up with Fingon, and Fingon's love. The water was appreciated, and he did reach for the blanket as his sweat began to cool on him. "Thank _you_ ," he insisted, wrapping Fingon in his arms as he liked best, pressing them chest to chest, pillowing Fingon's head on his arm, which was wrapped around his shoulders, and tucking him under his chin, arm and leg flung heavily over him so that even as they slept nothing could pull them asunder. He wriggled and Fingon shifted until they were both comfortable, and he pulled the blanket up to their hips and arranged pillows (there seemed to be a dozen of them) around them protectively, like they were young and building a fort. "Comfortable?" he asked.

Fingon nodded against him. "Very." They way they were laying he could brush a hand along Maedhros' hair, and he let the repetitive movements begin to ease him toward sleep. "Can we check out our bath in the morning?" The question was followed by a large yawn. "I wasn't focused on it, but… your father really has outdone himself, darling. And we'll have to try out _all_ the showers. And use more of the kitchen. And maybe go outside for a bit? Just walking, not riding anywhere. Those are my ideas, but what do you want to do?"

"Mm, yes," Maedhros said, eyes half shut as he smiled. Fingon's fingers were magic. "The bath, yes, and all of it," he said. "I love you."

"Nothing to add?" Fingon cuddled close, eyes falling shut entirely as he focused on the pleasure of their simple touches and on the steady rise and fall of Maedhros' chest. Though Fingon was not intentionally sending them, stray thoughts of I love you, and perfect, wonderful, arimeldanya, vennonya, continued to drift in the back of his mind and across their bond.

Maedhros was too exhausted to offer more, and to suggest anything now sounded sacrilege. I love you love you thank you warm love soft love smells good tired sleep hold don't let go love you love love got you love.

The corners of Fingon's mouth twitched up even as he descended into sleep. The change was slow and effortless, and it was only clear that he was fully asleep when his hand stopped its gentle movements and rested limply against his husband's back.


	13. Chapter 13

Maedhros slept solid and steady until he woke with treelight in his eyes. He had meant to let Fingon sleep in, but the light was so beautiful it stole his breath, and glancing up at the headboard in full treelight made him burst into tears. "Findekáno," he said, kissing him. "Wake up. Look."

When Fingon woke the first thing he saw was Maedhros stretched out on the bed, the light forming a halo around his hair. "Mhmm, beautiful," he said, and, not yet truly awake, he snuggled back into his husband's side, curling his head down and already mostly asleep.

Maedhros laughed to himself, dipping his head to kiss Fingon properly, and sliding a hand under his chin he tipped Fingon's head up. "Open your eyes, love," he asked sweetly.

Fingon blinked up at him. "Russ? Ah," he covered a large yawn with one hand before stretching his arms and back. "Mara tuile." He flopped back onto the bed with a pleased groan. "I love you."

"Finno!" Maedhros complained, rolling over and pulling Fingon on top of him. "Look at our valley!"

"Our…" Fingon's voice trailed off as he caught sight of the headboard. Almost immediately he was reaching out and holding onto his husband, voice failing him for half a minute. "Russandol," he said lowly. "It's beautiful. It's… oh, Valar, Russ, he gave us our valley. How can we ever… he gave us our other home." Because even though they had built no cabin there, in his mind the valley was theirs and would always be special to them. "It's perfect." He hugged Maedhros, and at the moment could not comprehend why his father and uncle so often fought and were unable to understand each other- not when Feanor was insightful enough and loving enough to create something so important to the two of them. Not when his father had been equally careful in choosing gifts.

"They--" Maedhros sighed as he caught the stray thought. "They love each other. Deep down." He shrugged. "You're right, they were both so kind."

"Mhmm," Fingon hummed in agreement and reached out, tracing the wood and inlays of the headboard reverently. "Our valley," he murmured. "Every morning, every evening we can look at it and remember. Remember finding it, and our first kisses, our agreement- our betrothal, the other trips… our bonding-" he stopped, voice rasping and unable to go on aloud. So much that was theirs- their bond, their past, their special moments, were there. Climbing together, Maedhros catching him, Fingon taking his husband atop one of the peaks, hiking and laughing and kissing and crying. He glanced from Maedhros' pendant to the headboard to his husband, smiling and asking silently for a good morning kiss and a hug.

Maedhros wrapped his arms around Fingon and pulled him into a deep kiss, and smiled, and laughed as they parted. "Good morning, love," he said. "Do you like the view of our valley?" Already he was quite taken with the view of Fingon with the light behind him, his hair mussed and eyes bleary and cheeks rosy.

Fingon nodded enthusiastically. "Centuries from now I will still love this view; I cannot imagine ever tiring of it." He looked at Maedhros, eyeing his wrists and searching briefly for any marks or bruises. "How do you feel, beloved? How did you sleep? And are you hurting anywhere?"

Maedhros shook his head. "Not at all. Not anywhere. I slept like a child." He smiled and kissed Fingon again. "I ache only for more." He laughed and rolled over until he was on top, and peppered kisses all over Fingon's cute face.

Fingon's face brightened. "I am glad," he whispered. "And I love thee. And I want that too, Russ." He was rubbing his hands along Maedhros' back again, content and only then realizing how much he wanted his husband's weight on him this morning. "Feels good. Thank you."

"Mm." Maedhros pressed into Fingon's neck, smelling his hair and resting all his weight on him. "Ah, love you."

"Tell me what you would like to do this morning-- the first few things. What shall we do together, venno?" Fingon was smiling widely now, eager to hear his husband's thoughts and willing to go along with whatever Maedhros desired.

"I want to see you wet," he purred in Fingon's ear. "In our bath, of course. I want to see what other surprises our home has in store. Oh. And I want to bring you breakfast in bed: will you release me long enough for that, my husband?"

Fingon briefly held him tighter. Then, with lingering caresses, he let his arms drift to his sides. "Of course. But will you keep our bond open?" he asked quickly. "That is, if you don't want me on the counter while you work."

Maedhros smiled and kissed him. "Maybe later." He got up on hands and knees and kissed him again. "I'll just bring something quick. And I'll never close our bond." He kissed him again and slid off the bed, but returned to kiss him again. "I will be right back."

"Be fast?" Fingon shook his head with an apologetic smile, unsure why he felt so clingy. "Sorry. You know I'll wait for you. And I'll keep your spot warm for you," he added, shifting to sprawl in the warm spot Maedhros left.

Maedhros kissed him again. "Darling, you'll hardly know I'm gone." Another kiss, gentle, on his brow. "Close your eyes for me. Go back to sleep. Once you start dreaming of me, I'll be here." One last kiss, and he scurried for the door.

Fingon lay back, but after a moment he moved to the washroom to freshen himself and grab a few breath leaves to chew. He refilled the glass of water from the nightstand and slipped back into bed, this time pulling the covers high and burrowing into the center of the bed, tugging the pillows around him to recreate their pillow fortress.

Maedhros prepared a hasty breakfast, putting tea on while he set toast on the stove and began to slice a crisp green apple and sharp cheddar. He assembled them on the tray and slathered the toast thick with butter, cinnamon, and honey before cutting them into triangles. He returned as fast as he could without dropping anything and set the tray on the bed. "All right?"

Fingon sat up, smiled at the tray, and then flopped back onto the bed with an exaggerated sigh. “No,” he groaned. “Very problematic. Worryingly so.” He opened his eyes and glanced up at Maedhros. “I’m going to be completely, ridiculously spoiled by the time our honeymoon is over, arimeldanya. It looks delicious.” He inched back up, moving several pillows against the headboard to lean against. “Will you join me?”

"I will feed you," Maedhros said. "This honeymoon will be worth nothing if we do not both end up spoiled by each other." He plucked up a piece of toast and held it to Fingon's lips.

Fingon accepted a bite with relish. As usual, Maedhros had managed to turn something as simple as toast into delicious food, and Fingon sent his thanks to Maedhros, leaning to one side to brush their shoulders together. "Thanks, Russ."

"You're welcome," Maedhros said with a smile, and reached to slide the tray in between them. "Here, you should try an apple with cheese--I even dare say it would make a good sandwich all three together," he suggested, holding a bite to Fingon's lips, and once he had taken it, he poured the tea with a bit more care.

"Mmm. I think you've found a way to make your food even better-- hand feeding." When his husband offered him the next bite, Fingon leaned forward slightly, lips closing around his husband's fingertips and sucking lightly as he removed the last crumbs. He looked up at Maedhros, pupils flaring with desire. "What about you, Russandol? Shall I feed you?"

Maedhros bit his lip to keep from lunging over the food and devouring Fingon for breakfast. Instead, "Yes, please," he said, and opened his mouth, the pleasant ache in his jaw reminding him of the previous night's activities.

Fingon's hand trembled as he caught the direction of Maedhros' thoughts. "Loved that. Breakfast first, though." He prepared a triangle of toast with fruit and cheese and offered it to his husband.

"Sorry," Maedhros grinned (not sorry at all) as he took the offered bite of food, and fed Fingon another bit of cheese. He picked up his own cup of tea and drank two cups in quick succession. "We could do another proper breakfast later," he offered. "I only wanted something quick for now, so we can spend as long as we like in the bath before we get hungry."

"Good idea. This is really tasty, though." Fingon grinned, picking up his own cup. "And nice and light after last night's stew." Hmm. I wonder what you have planned for the bath that will keep us there so long. Following Maedhros' lead Fingon finished two cups of tea before grabbing another apple slice to munch on.

" _I_ am entirely innocent," Maedhros insisted. "I was referring to your probable predations." He laughed and ate more. He found he was quite hungry from last night, despite not being the one doing most of the work.

"Oh? Do tell." Fingon's eyebrow raised as he sat back, putting cheese on another apple slice and smothering a laugh with a cough. "I suppose if my 'predations' get us into trouble you wish me to keep my hands to myself? You need only ask." He nodded determinedly. "Don't worry-- I shall stay back and keep from preying on your poor self until you ask me to do otherwise."

Maedhros wrinkled his nose in a decided pout. "Oh but then my life would be boring!" he cried sadly.

"I wouldn't want you to be bored," Fingon admitted. He leaned forward to kiss Maedhros but, at the last second, pulled quickly away. "But, neither would I want to be preying on you."

"You wish to drive me to desperation?" Maedhros growled. "You might then see me prey upon you." He grinned. "I have the advantage in the water, remember."

Fingon's head fell forward, his brow resting on Maedhros' shoulder as he groaned in appreciation of the thought. "Tempting, arimelda. Are you trying to drive _me_ to desperation right now?" His hand found it's way into his husband's and squeezed lightly. I think I rather like the idea of you preying on me, having me in the water. He shivered and took another sip of hot tea.

Maedhros shrugged, his turn to play coy. "Perhaps," he said with a grin. "You better eat all your breakfast then."

Mean. And rude. Fingon went back to piling food on a triangle of toast. "Here--am I still allowed to feed you, darling? I'd like to make sure you can keep going, keep up… make this a bath to remember." He leaned in slightly, offering the toast and grinning. "Plus you'll need your energy for later--whether we go for a walk… or visit the crafting hall."

Maedhros laughed and opened his mouth for the food. "The bed is indeed beautiful," he said. "Every day we can see it when we wake up. I'll want to lie in bed all day."

"Or we can do that," Fingon suggested with a smile and a shrug. "It's lovely. Love this. Love you. And all of our home- even the parts we haven't seen yet!"

"Yes! I'm eager to explore further," Maedhros said, finishing the last of his tea and feeding Fingon the last of the toast. "The master bathroom first."

Fingon nodded, swallowing. "Now?" He drained the last of his tea and set it down, focusing completely on his husband.

"Well, are you finished?" He asked easily, unconcerned, stacking cheese between the last two apple slices and eating it. "Would you like some more tea first?"

Two could play that game, and Fingon sat back, pouring another half cup. "I suppose I could have some more. Since you suggest it." His mouth quirked up in a small smile, amused and pleased and enjoying their mutual teasing.

Maedhros sipped his tea slowly. "It's a lovely day out," he commented, as over the top as he could be.

"It is... Are you suggesting you don't wish to bathe with me this morning?" Fingon looked up at him with large eyes. "You know I would do anything to please you, prince."

"I'm merely not in any hurry. That would be uncouth of me." Now he sounded like his Vanyarin step-grandmother, always concerned with propriety, and he almost laughed at himself.

Fingon suppressed a wince as he heard his grandmother's voice coming from his husband. "Of course," he said lightly, slipping from the bed. He was smiling rather threateningly. "I suppose I've been terribly uncouth myself, lounging around without a shred of clothing. I wouldn't want to upset your sense of propriety. Have I been behaving absolutely atrociously? Do you feel I've lost all sense of dignity? Do forgive me, melda." Fingon pulled a long robe from the closet-- one intended for colder weather that would be appropriate and even quite conservative to wear around the house on occasions when they had guests. The material was a dark blue and came down to his wrists and to his knees. He fastened it close and knotted the belt, tossing a similar red robe at his cousin with a merciless grin as he slipped back into bed.

Maedhros glowered as he got up to put the tray away. Returning, he bent to pick up the robe, and at the last moment he lunged, throwing the red robe over Fingon like a net and pouncing after him.

"Ack! Nelyafinwe what are you _doing_?" Fingon's legs kicked uselessly as he tried to get Maedhros and the robe off of him and escape.

Maedhros laughed and growled. "Propriety suits neither of us. Now behave." He wrapped the robe tight around him and tied the arms together to keep him pinned before kissing him ravenously.

I _was_ behaving, Fingon thought. He managed a brief pout between kisses though the rest of his body betrayed him, arching up to press against his husband time and again. "Valar," he moaned. "Russ. My Russ. I told you I would do anything you asked, but _please_!"

Maedhros laughed, either playful or evil. "Your teasing went too far, so this is what you get," he decided, and tossed his husband over his shoulder (from here he had easy access to Fingon's backside, which he took the opportunity to squeeze experimentally) and carried him to where he could see the bathroom was.

Fingon wiggled slightly before he felt limp, not wanting to risk toppling them. "Did I start it? No. Did I respond to you each time you suggested something? Of course." Fingon smiled against Maedhros' back. "And you like it. If I did nothing interesting you'd grow bored." He gave an aggrieved sigh. "You'd grow bored and start traveling Aman just to avoid staying with me. I'd entertain the cousins for a while before starting to wither alone, eventually going into the mountains and walking for years for lack of anything else to do. You'd ride by on a journey and see my silhouette against some distant peak and perhaps call a greeting which I might call down in answer before you rode away leaving me to my solitude."

"Oh, Findekáno!" Maedhros cried, saddened at the thought, even as it was comical for it's unlikelihood. He swung Fingon back around and held him bridal style so he could look at him. "You know I'd never leave you," he said, his voice stern. "You must not even joke about it."

"I… at this point I don't fear that you would," Fingon murmured. "Sorry. Are you alright? I didn't mean to upset you." He looked up at Maedhros, snuggling close.

"I'm all right," Maedhros promised, kissing him and holding him tightly. He stood him on his feet and looked directly into his eyes. "I know I once gave you cause to fear me and my devotion. We can discuss it if you wish, but it does not please me to hear you make light of words that will haunt me until the world is remade." He tugged at the ties, freeing Fingon's hands so he could take them both in his and kiss them. "I know you meant it as a joke: forgive me that I cannot laugh."

"Please forgive me," Fingon whispered. "Tyë melin." He leaned in, trying to get as close to Maedhros as possible. "I'm sorry. I… I suppose it pleases me that I can joke about it, at least a little, because the notion is so ridiculous. I once could not believe that you could or would want me, or that you would so prioritize… us. I feared something could make you change your mind. But now our fëar are entwined and I have seen and felt your love. I am yours as you are mine. And I trust and believe that you will never leave me." He gently tugged Maedhros closer, still, leaning heavily against his husband. "I didn't intent to hurt you, and I'm sorry I did. So it is I who must beg forgiveness. Now, did you still want to get us into the shower or bath?" He smiled hopefully at Maedhros.

Maedhros wrapped his arms around Fingon as if he wished to fold their bodies together into one. "It is forgiven so as to be forgotten," he said, shaking his head, "and your trust and love give me such joy." He smiled mistily and kissed the top of Fingon's head and just held him until the incident was truly forgotten and the robes fell to their feet. "Yes," he said, looking about him. "Now where's that light crystal?--" he pawed at the wall until there was a hum of light and, "Oh. Oh, my," he said, catching sight of the bathroom.

Fingon looked around happily. "Beautiful, isn't it?" The room was almost large enough to be another bedroom, with two showers, and a shower head over a smaller tub. A large sunken tub with a number of holes, pressure faucets most likely, dominated one side of the room. A ledge against the wall provided a small artificial waterfall that would flow into the tub. Almost everything was of marble, white, black, blue and red in different areas, and there were personal sinks for each of them. A large rack held fluffy towels, robes, oils, shampoos, soaps, and lotions.

Fingon had only glanced around the room the first time; a closer inspection showed notes attached to several of the jars and bottles detailing what they were for- a muscle relaxant recommended for use after a day of sparring or working in the forge, a strong exfoliant, a shampoo to help tame hair, a damage control conditioner. He grinned, recognizing Aredhel's attempts at calligraphy that often devolved into an excited scrawl. He walked forward to turn on the water and begin filling the large tub, which also started the waterfall. A touch to another crystal lit several crystals, with deep blue and purple glows, which would shine under the water when the tub was filled. His grin softened as thought of the effort their family had put into even this personal room.

"Oh, Finno!" Maedhros cried, a grin spilling onto his face as he picked Fingon up and spun him around the room. "It's magnificent!" He laughed and almost dove into the tub right then, but had to run around and first touch each showerhead and read all the little labels. He grinned at Fingon and pulled him again into an embrace, and danced around the washroom with him in his arms.

Fingon laughed until his eyes were watering, unbelievably happy. I _love_ dancing with you, he thought emphatically and held Maedhros tight. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” He tilted his head up, offering his lips for a kiss and pressing firmly against Maedhros, each of them already half hard.

Maedhros kissed him while they were still dancing, but, impatient, he picked Fingon up so as to better kiss him, and set him down only when he had stopped spinning. "Ohh," he sighed when they parted for air. "I don't ever want to let you go. Let's go be improper in the bath," he giggled.

“There’s an idea I can get behind… or in front of!” Fingon laughed and tugged Maedhros to the bath. “Shall we? Or do you want to shower and then be very improper in the bath?”

"No time," Maedhros murmured, backpedaling him toward the bath and guiding him gently but firmly in. "I want--you. I want to touch you, I want to hold you, I want you wet, in our bath. Our gorgeous, huge bath." It was barely up to their knees now, if they stood, and was just bubbling to their waists as they sat on the short ledge. He kissed Fingon again, pinning him to the far side of the bath.

“G-good. Great. I like your plans,” Fingon answered with a breathless laugh. “Now that you have me, now that we’re wet and you’re touching me and holding me, what will you do with me?”

"I hadn't thought that far ahead," Maedhros admitted breathlessly, and continued to kiss Fingon, and touch him (quite innocently, to begin with), grabbing the back of his neck while he sucked a bruise at the point where he could feel his pulse thrumming through his throat. "Do you have any suggestions?"

“Fuck me?” The reply was immediate and Fingon flushed, blinking up at his husband. “Umm… I mean… if you want. Or…or touch me? Or, may I wash you first?” He wrapped his legs around Maedhros’ waist, hugging him closely. “I’d like to have my hands on you as well.”

"You want to move straight to the main course?" Maedhros laughed. "I admit I, too, am tempted." He mouthed along Fingon's jaw and ears and throat, and pulled him into his lap so they could rock against each other. "But I want to hear you beg me a bit better than that. And I want to enjoy this bath. And I want to make you very, very, very happy, as happy as you make me, and that sort of thing doesn't come all at once."

“Well then.” They ground together and Fingon gasped, pupils blown wide. “Please, beloved, please my prince, will you touch me, and taste me, and open me slowly?” He shivered, pressing against Maedhros helplessly. “Will you hold me gently and wash my hair and wash all of me, and kiss me under the waterfall?” His hands worked their way up Maedhros’ back until they were almost at his neck. “And will you sit with me against the jets and let the water from the jets caress us? See how close you can get from the water brushing against you before we join?”

Maedhros' grin was soft in spite of stretching across his face from ear to ear. "I will. Oh, darling, Finno, I will, a thousand times if you ask it of me." He turned in the water, setting Fingon down on his lap but now against the edge of the tub, and his fingers played gently over his sex and pressed his still loose entrance. "I love thee, Findekáno. Ask me sweetly and I will give you your every desire. Kiss me?" he begged, and slipped a finger inside him.

“Yes, yes please.” Thank you. Fingon slid his lips over Maedhros’ with a sigh. He was torn between pressing forward against his husband or back against Maedhros’ fingers. What, what do you want, love? How would you have me touch you? His fingers danced along Maedhros’ shoulders, ready to thread through his hair or caress down his chest, and take his arousal in hand. Please let me do something for you.

"Hold my hair," he begged breathily. "Guide me. Tug it. Don't be afraid of hurting me, and don't let go." This will give me unhindered access to your delicious body, he added as he kissed him, withdrawing his fingers enough to soap them and this time press inside with two. Want you soft and open and needing me to fill you.

“Nnnguh! Oh! Good-- it’s good. Ready. Still feel… not open, but my body remembers being open. Remembers last night. How good it was. Always need you to fill me. It makes us complete, makes us whole.” Fingon sighed, licking his lips as he happily buried his fingers in Maedhros’ hair. “You feel amazing, melda. Love your hair. It’s beautiful, soft, full… may I-- ah, good!-- may I wash it later for you?” He finished speaking quickly, eyes closing as he arched back and gasped, focused on the fingers within him.

"Yes, yes, you may, you'll have to," Maedhros whispered, kissing him as he wrapped his free arm around his thin waist and squeezed his fleshy backside. "You're so beautiful. Especially when I close my eyes and just touch you: can you believe that? Until we were bonded, I thought nothing could be more beautiful than how you appear to my eyes. Can you take another finger?" he asked, scissoring the two, "Or should I keep teasing you like this?"

Fingon tugged his husband's face close, twisting his hair tightly as Maedhros groped him. "I can take another… but I'd like you to keep teasing me like this. Just for another minute." Fingon slotted their mouths together, tongue flicking out to tease at Maedhros' lips. Feels nice. Comfortable. Arousing but… relaxing? Am I making any sense?

Yes, yes of course you are. You tell me when. Just want to pet you, want to memorize how you feel, inside and out. Maedhros had his eyes closed, and was kissing Fingon sloppily. I love you. I love you. Thank you. Thank you for being mine, and for making me yours. I love you. The water was up to their necks now, and Maedhros reluctantly reached for a faucet to turn it off.

Always, Russ. Tyë melin. And this is warm and soft and good and easy. I like you having me like this. Fingon pulled back and kissed the tip of Maedhros' nose. "Thank you for having me," he whispered. "For letting me be yours. Your boy, your best friend, your prince, your husband. And thank you for letting me have you." He rubbed their noses together lightly as he ground their arousals together, alternately moving back against his husband's hand. "Feels _incredible_!" He groaned the words, tugging at Maedhros' hair and threading his fingers through it to stretch them. Fingon never completely removed his hands, however. As his husband had requested he kept them tangled amidst Maedhros' locks.

Maedhros sighed into the touch, at being held so close to Fingon, at the lovely insistence of Fingon's fingers in his hair. He could feel himself hardening already at the touches. "Love you, thank you, such a good boy, my good Finno," he hummed, playing with him languidly, lovingly. "Going to give you three now, darling," he whispered, peppering tiny kisses wherever he could reach.

Fingon moaned loudly at the names Maedhros gave him, bouncing in his cousin's lap. "Please, yes. Want more. Want you. What you to--oh!--to need this as much as I do." Fingon pressed his arms against Maedhros' shoulders, using then to help keep himself steady without relying solely on his hands in his husband's hair. "Good," he whispered a minute later. "Feels good. Like having you in me." His breath hitched and he leaned down, trailing kisses along Maedhros' neck. "Another?" He swallowed. "Please?"

"Darling, not yet," Maedhros hummed, nipping at Fingon's skin as he pressed them close. "You can have as many as you want, just be patient." He stretched him with three fingers for a time, whispering filthy sweet things in his ear, before he began stroking Fingon's sex with his free hand. "How's that?" He growled.

"Nngh! G-good! Please--please let me touch you. Or take me. I'm yours, vennonya. Please." Fingon's hands were clenching and in clenching in Maedhros' hair as he tried to ride the motions of His husband's hands. Good. Thank you. Love you. Love this. So good. Fingon closed his eyes and pressed their lips together.

"Touch me anywhere you like, but I want you to keep your hands above water for now," Maedhros said with a slightly evil grin, taking his time watching Fingon come apart in his arms. "Kiss me. Show me how much you want four fingers."

Fingon whined, shifting to cup Maedhros' face with both hands. "I want them," he whispered and leaned in to plant kiss after fleeting kiss upon Maeshros' lips until his husband ground against him. "I _love_ thee," Fungon murmured, taking his lips in a deep and heated kiss. He pulled back long enough to groan "I desire thee" before pressing close again.

"Mm, good," Maedhros said, probing with a fourth finger but not quite breaching him yet. "Then I am not the only one, for I desire you more than breath." He hugged him tightly, leaving off stroking his cock (which didn't need any help) and withdrew his fingers. "Going to soap them up so I don't hurt you," he said in response to Fingon's whine. "I love you, baby, love you, Findekáno. I'm so happy you're mine." As he slicked his fingers as much as he could, and spread his legs to keep Fingon spread, "Okay, here we go. Hold onto me. I want you to breathe in, and then breathe out slowly, and push a little. Got it?"

Nodding wordlessly, Fingon shifted to wrap his arms around Maedhros' shoulders. "Can we start every morning like this?" he asked half-seriously. "'m ready. Please darling- finish stretching me and preparing me for you." Want to be with you- want more of you in me. Please.

"Mm, who said I was preparing you for anything?" Maedhros teased. "I'm just playing with you now." He grinned and kissed Fingon's neck. "I think we can get more creative with our mornings, but yes. Okay, breathe in--and out--" he said, and slid four fingers inside.

"More creative?" Fingon prompted teasingly. Then he bit back a groan and when Maedhros' fingers settled inside him, his head fall back and he keened. Full, good, so much, not enough (need your desire within me. Want to be marked with your seed). My Russ, perfect Maitimo, thank you, thank you. 's good. You're wonderful.

"Mm, shh," Maedhros said, holding Fingon at the back of his neck and pressing him close, shushing him as the rush of filthy beautiful words almost had him going off early, or doing something rash that might hurt Fingon. "Darling, the things you say," he purred, "the little noises you make. They're too much." He pressed his fingers up to the third knuckle and searched around for that spot inside Fingon that brought him such pleasure. "Mm, you're such a good boy."

"Your good boy," Fingon agreed breathlessly. "All yours. Only yours." He pressed close, trying to squirm against Maedhros' arousal though he followed his husband's instructions and kept his hands around Maedhros' shoulders and threading through his hair, at the surface of the bath water. "Not too much- just enough," he added with a soft moan as Maedhros' fingers shifted within him. "Want you pleased. Want you desperate and feeling very, very good."

"Keep talking like that, and I will be," Maedhros vowed, pressing against that bundle of nerves. "My perfect boy. Going to fuck you in a minute. Want you so loose you don't even know I'm there except where I'm making you see stars."

"No, no, no," Fingon mumbled, shaking his head. "Want to feel you. Want to feel everywhere you're touching me then, and now." His hips were beginning to jerk slightly, trying to get Maedhros to pay more attention to that perfect spot inside of him. "Ready," Fingon whispered, squeezing Maedhros in a tight hug. "I'm ready to have you in me. When you want. When you're ready too. I'll be nice and warm and snug. My hröa will welcome you, darling. And we'll be safe and joined and wet and light and it will be perfect."

"Oh, fuck," Maedhros whispered, and before he knew it, he couldn't hold back any longer, immediately withdrawing his fingers and inserting himself. "Yes. Oh, Fin, yes. Warm and snug. Beautiful. Fuck. Love you."

Fingon bit his lip, whining as he settled himself on his husband. He found himself trying to press himself further down rather than letting his body drift slightly in the hot water. Russandol! Thank you, thank you. Just like that. You're perfect. You're wonderful. "May I touch you?" Fingon looked up at his husband hopefully, petting the back of Maedhros' head gently. "At least your back? But below the water- I don't have much left that's above water to play with," he added with a small pout.

Maedhros grinned, kissing his brow as he held him close and tight so he didn't move too much. "Anywhere you like, precious," he said, kissing Fingon's cheeks and ears. "I love you. I love you so much. Love the way you feel. Love the way you move. Such a good boy."

"Mmm. I like that." Fingon blushed and let his hands drift lower, tracing a meandering path own Maedhros' back until they reached the curve of his rear and the ledge he was sitting on. "You're spoiling me," he whispered. "The way you speak, the way you feel… it's already so good. And we've only just started." Fingon reached one hand back up to tug at Maedhros' hair for a moment. "Will you tell me what I might do right now that would best please you?"

"Just keep talking to me like you were. Hold me, touch me, love me. All I ever ask. And let me enjoy you. Let us enjoy this place. It's beautiful. And so are you."

"Not nearly so beautiful as you," Fingon muttered, flush deepening. "You outshine the room, the manor, the valley… all of it." He snuggled close, resting his head on Maedhros' shoulder as they rocked together. "Valar, Russ. And you feel as good as you look-- did I mention that? Hröa and fëa… though right now your hröa alone is enough to steal my breath away." He focused on sucking a large bruise into his husband's neck as Maedhros continued to move within him and around him.

"Ahh, Fin," he hissed, letting his head fall back and his eyes close, and he thrust into Fingon sharply. "Uhh, you--you are--I love you." Already his brain was scrambled from Fingon so snug around him, his arms and legs holding him. "I love you." He grabbed a handful of Fingon's hair and pulled, baring his own neck, which Maedhros bit into, and with his other hand he took Fingon's cock in hand and stroked him. "Want to feel you tighten around me when you come," he gasped.

"Promise. I will, I promise." Fingon tightened around Maedhros, loosened, and repeated. "I love thee," Fingon whispered. "I love worshipping your hröa, and making you feel good. I like showing you how beautiful you are and how good you make me feel. I like making you smile."

As if in response, Maedhros smiled, but Fingon's movements around him stole his breath. "Close. Fin, I'm so close. The things you say. Are you--? Will you--? Please come for me. Come for me, baby."

"Please. Now. Russ!" Fingon moaned softly, head falling back and back arching until the back of his head was almost touching the water. Fingon fell of the edge, water rippling around them as his body began to spasm. Perfect, Russ. So good. Please. Love this. Please keep going. Fuck me through it. Thank you. Thank you. His mouth was open as he gulped air. Slowly his lashes fluttered open as he looked up at his husband.

Maedhros was moving, sharp and quick, battering his insides and tumbling over himself as Fingon tightened around him. It was beautiful making love in the warm water like this--it was like being born. "Ai, Fin!" he shrieked, his voice breaking as he crested and came, spilling inside Fingon, filling him, possessing him, loving him. He groaned as he came to and realized he was probably crushing Fingon against the wall and gingerly lifted himself, though never letting go of Fingon, pulling him close as he relaxed back, panting.

"Thank you," Fingon panted. "Thank you. I… don't let go?" He looked up at Maedhros pleadingly, arms wrapping securely around his neck. "Tyë melin." He held Maedhros tightly within him. "Do you want to stay here or… do you want to move to deeper water?" It could be fun. swimming or wading around still joined. Fingon quite liked the idea of Maedhros shifting within him as he walked. Of course, you'd have to do all the work...

"I don't know how hard I'll stay, but--" Maedhros huffed, but obliged Fingon by lifting him and wading across to the middle of the bath and floating on his back with Fingon atop him. "Never let go," he murmured, smiling at him.

"Never." Fingon brought their lips together with a smile. "This is wonderful. Hmmm, where to, next? I think we should use the waterfall to wash our hair. It'll be almost like a shower in the bath." He smiled, hips shifting slightly as his body relaxed.

Maedhros pretended a put-upon sigh before wading across. "This is a beautiful bath," he said. "Perfect for you. Perfect." He kissed him chastely and, once they were under the waterfall, flipped a switch so that it ran the water around in a cycle, like a fountain. Pushing a few more buttons, he turned the pressure jets on. "Ohhh that's nice," he murmured, snuggling close to Fingon.

Fingon moaned at the pleasant feeling. "Agreed. Want to stay like this for hours," he whispered. "Till our fingers and toes are all wrinkly and we've used up all the hot water in the house reheating the bath!" Not really. I know you'll have to leave me- well, not leave… unjoin before then. But it's a lovely thought, isn't it?

Maedhros grinned. "It is. Maybe next time I'll hold off a bit longer. Or I'll bend you over on dry land, and if we decide to move you'll have to walk, too, with me inside you. We'd make a funny-looking creature like that," he chuckled, nuzzling Fingon's cheek as they finally unjoined.

"Russ!" Fingon huffed and grinned. "I suppose we could do that." He shivered. "I'd like to try." Then he pulled back far enough to look at Maedhros with a wicked grin. "Or perhaps when we do that it will be you walking around with me inside you!"

Maedhros flushed and squirmed, though he pursed his lips considering the mechanics. "I wonder how far my legs would have to be spread to match height?" he teased.

"Fine, be that way." Fingon pouted for a few second. "I know! I'll be on stilts! I'm sure uncle would help me craft some if I so requested it," he said, matching Maedhros teasing with a smirk. "Or would you rather just use those strong muscles of yours to stay positioned with your knees bent?"

Maedhros groaned. "Okay, stop, you're making me hurt just thinking about it." He laughed and hugged Fingon close, kissing his beautiful round face. "Oh, I love you, Findekáno! Have I said that today? I love you."

"As I love you, my husband," Fingon whispered. He stole a gentle kiss from Maedhros' lips, beaming at his cousin. "You make me very, very happy. And you are mine as I am yours." Fingon shifted to stand in the bath, returning the hug wholeheartedly. "Someday we should figure out how to dance in the water. Dance-dance, I mean, not the dancing we were doing."

Maedhros snorted. "Well, we could slow-dance, right here, I mean. With the waterfall as our music." He stood up and pressed himself against Fingon. "Close your eyes," he said, wrapping his arms around Fingon and swaying with him. "Find the rhythm. You guide me."

Fingon hummed lightly, using the sound of falling water as a backdrop. His music resonated in the chamber, making it louder and more full. "Sing with me?" he begged, and started a song about clear mountain breezes and lands rising from the sea. As they moved, the water rippled around them throwing the light from the underwater crystals across the room's ceiling in a display of waving colors. Fingon held Maedhros tightly as he tilted his head back, catching the light show. It's wondrous, he thought, awed. And always so beautiful. I think we've discovered another secret of our house.

Maedhros hummed a baseline shyly as he swayed and held Fingon close, watching the lights, listening to the sounds reverberate around them. Beautiful, he agreed, kissing Fingon (as he always did, when moved by beauty so that his heart swelled and could only be relieved by Fingon). Thank you.

You inspire me, Fingon thought with a pleased laugh. Tyë melin, tyë melin, tyë melin my dearest! They continued to sing until they reached the song's end and Fingon pressed close to Maedhros, closing his eyes and enjoying the end of their dance as their voices faded and they were left with only continuing sound of the waterfall. "You turn," Fingon whispered contentedly. "What would you like to do, melda?"

Maedhros smiled, pulling Fingon down into the water up to their chins. "Soak. With you. Here. Just--until we are hungry again. I want your skin against mine, and for us to wash each other's hair." He blushed. "Well. That was a lot of things maybe."

"Good things," Fingon assured him. "I would do anything for you. And this is hardly a chore… "I'll soak with you if you kiss me again," he offered with a grin. Or I will if you don't. But I'd like a kiss, and I don't think you'd consider it a hardship.

I would give you a thousand kisses, Maedhros said, pursing his lips to do just that, and he laughed as he gave Fingon twenty or so in quick succession, and then kissed him in earnest. I love kissing you. I love holding you. This is my favorite place. Being with you. This is home, Findekáno. Thank you.

"Home," Fingon sighed contentedly. They rested in silence for a time before he began to speak. "And we must explore more of it! And the valley and hills. And take time to explore aunt Nerdanel's gift and try out or at least go through mother's gifts. I know--they're both mother, now!" Fingon's joy at the thought bubbled up excitedly. "But aunt helps to simplify who I'm speaking of, if you aren't offended by my continuing use of the title." He shrugged and looked to Maedhros for his thoughts.

Maedhros shook his head. "Not at all. I don't think either of them would be offended either way." He sighed wearily. "Ah, its such a chore to have to go explore our boundless blessings! When the only one I am concerned about is already in my lap." He grinned and kissed Fingon again. "Well let me wash your hair, first."

"Of course! And I'll wash yours. Hmm, and may I do something else?" Maedhros quirked an eyebrow. "I would lie to wash your cheeks, your neck, perhaps behind your ears." Fingon mouthed at an ear thoughtfully. "Your back, of course. And perhaps I'd best deal with your front as well." His hand trailed down to cup Maedhros' rear and squeeze gently. "Your rear, your entrance… your thighs, your feet, your calves, your toes… what am I missing? Your arms," he added, nodding seriously. "And I mustn't forget your incredible hands. They deserve their own massage and washing."

"Ooh, um," Maedhros said, blushing and grinning. "I'd better wash you quickly, then," he teased, cupping his hand to pour water over Fingon's hair. "Now where is the shampoo in all of this?" he wondered.

"Ugh. Outside the bath on the shelf with the towels and robes- lower levels, shampoos, conditioners, soaps, oils. Oh, and some bath oils and bubbling scents we could pour at the base of the waterfall or by one of the jets." It was all wonderful, aside from having to climb out of the steaming water to grab something because they hadn't set it on the edge before getting it. "What should we grab? I'd rather do one run than be in and out and in and out."

"Oh--damn it--" Maedhros hauled himself out of the bath and sprinted across the room, grabbed an assortment of bottles, and returned. "These," he said with a grin. "Here, I've got one shampoo at least. Wet your hair. You love smelling like--erm--lilacs, don't you?" he laughed.

“Watch out, good sir-- you’re the one who’s going to be smelling me.” Fingon laughed and moved to help sort through the bottles. “Here--peony bubble bath to go with the lilac shampoo.” He waded back to the waterfall to pour a generous dose in.

Maedhros laughed. "And I'll match, so," he shrugged and poured some in his hand. "I'll only wash your scalp, just get the rest of your hair wet," he said, scrubbing his head with the pads of his fingers. "Close your eyes for me, love."

“Closed,” Fingon chirped. “You can wash whatever you’d like. And we can try one of the conditioners and one of the de-tanglers and… I think Irissë called them ‘shiny-fiers'.” He shrugged at the name, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

"Haha, all right. Though your hair hardly needs more shine. Maybe mine does, but yours is already radiant. We could condition the tips, though," he said, reaching for the bottle.

"Whatever you recommend. I trust you with my hair, Russ." Fingon turned to look at him briefly. "I have ever since I was little." His expression was fond as he thought of past times with his cousin helping to work with his hair. "Besides, you've been able to get it to do more than I ever could."

"Aww," Maedhros actually said out loud, and kissed Fingon. "I have never been trusted with so great a treasure." He twisted it into a knot at the nape of Fingon's neck: "Let's let that conditioner soak in for a minute while I wash your face," he said, picking up a washcloth and soaping it. "You used to hate this part, as a child," he chuckled.

"I've grown to appreciate it," Fingon replied. "Especially if I get to have your hands in my hair. I like what it does and am willing to let it do it's job. Besides, after winding up face down in the mud too many times while sparring with your brothers, a bit of conditioner became a pleasant way to make myself feel a bit more Eldarin." He shrugged and closed his eyes, letting Maedhros wash and rinse his face.

"There we are," Maedhros said, washing his face gently but thoroughly, and the rinsing it. After kissing his eyelids dry, "Okay, you can open your eyes," he said.

Fingon looked up at his husband, droplets of water stuck to his eyelashes. He grinned, closing his eyes briefly and feeling impossibly young. "I can still feel your kisses!"

"That's because my kisses will never leave you," Maedhros said, grinning. "They are meant always to guard you, and everywhere I've ever kissed you is a shield from harm and sadness," he explained, as if Fingon was young again and Maedhros was telling him fantastical tales of how the world worked.

"Will you kiss me everywhere then, that I may never come to harm?" Fingon threaded his fingers through his husband's hair with a smile. "And I shall do the same for you, beloved prince." A shield of love to guard you from any harm. I like that. And I think we should try to renew it every day. Just to be safe. He winked at Maedhros.

Maedhros grinned and pulled him close. "I will. Everywhere. It may take me some time, but it will be a beautiful goal to strive toward." He kissed down Fingon's shoulder to begin, and laughed. "You realize it might tickle when I get to your feet," he warned.

"Then be _careful_ ," Fingon stressed. "You're protecting and safeguarding. Not tickling." He tucked his head to rest against Maedhros' crown. "You don't have to do it all right now, though."

"Of course," Maedhros answered, nuzzling him gently. "I plan to take my time with you."

"Good. You can take all day if you want," Fingon offered magnanimously. "Of course, I'll also be taking my time with you." He smiled down at Maedhros. "You make me feel so very loved, darling. I really could stay in here for hours… well, if we kept adding hot water. Speaking of which- shall I?" He gestured at the faucet a few steps away.

"Please," Maedhros said. "Unless you're getting hungry--or curious--and would rather get out? After you wash my hair first, of course," he added with a grin.

"We still need to rinse my hair and wash yours… and wash the rest of each other." Fingon grinned, stepping back after a lingering touch to turn on the faucet. Staring at it for a moment he changed his mind and tried pressing one of a series of red crystals extended on the hot water 'side' of the faucet. The crystal lit, and the water began to heat. "I do believe this is the most luxurious bath I've ever been in," Fingon said, shaking his head as he moved back to Maedhros.

"Agreed. Our family has outdone themselves." He settled into the warm water happily. "Come here, let me rinse your hair."

"Yes. Please." Fingon moved up to him and hesitated. "Do you want me facing you or facing away from you? Or does it matter if we're using the waterfall to rinse?" He shrugged, pressing close for a kiss before Maedhros positioned them.

"Just relax," Maedhros said, "and close your eyes." He dipped Fingon backward beneath the waterfall, rinsing his hair of the shampoo and conditioner, and when he lifted him back up he kissed him. "Perfect," he said. "Open up."

Fingon blinked his eyes open, focusing on his husband. "Feels good," he murmured. He shook his head, causing his hair to fly wildly back and forth. "Your turn?" He eased Maedhros back with gentle hands, wetting his hair thoroughly before he began to work the shampoo into it. "You're too, tall." I love it. "Can you sink down a little so I can get the top of your hair more easily?"

Flinching away from the spray of water, Maedhros otherwise submitted to Fingon's ministrations gladly. He laughed and ducked his chin to the water. "Better?" he grinned.

"Best," Fingon answered, massaging shampoo into the top of his head. "And the shampoo is really foamy. Have you used this before?" He leaned in to sniff at Maedhros' hair. "My hair feels great; I think you'll like it." He eventually urged Maedhros up, working the shampoo down to the tips of his hair before moving him into the waterfall and rinsing it out, letting Maedhros stay amidst the spray for an extra minute. "You look beautiful like this, water flowing over you. Absolutely stunning." He leaned in, closing his own eyes against the water and pressed himself against his husband.

"You feel beautiful like this," Maedhros replied. "Your fëa so calm and warm--how could I possibly make you as happy as you feel?" he wondered, eyes still closed.

"I am!" Fingon gave a startled laugh, arms wrapping securely around Maedhros. "I'm with you. You love me and want me… you married me, vennonya. And sometimes everything still feels liked he most amazing, wonderful dream. I'm happy. You make me blissfully happy. You make me feel like I must be glowing, for that is how my fëa feels when I'm with you and when you speak to me like this and hold me." He stroked Maedhros' back, rocking them gently as they lingered under the waterfall.

"That's what it is. You're glowing!" Maedhros concluded with a laugh, pulling Fingon into his arms and kissing him under the waterfall.

"If I am it's because of you." They enjoyed another lingering kiss before Fingon stepped back, pulling Maedhros from the spray. "Conditioner now, right?" It was applied with the same care as the shampoo, and when he was finished Fingon considered the soap sitting on the ledge. "May I wash your face while we let the conditioner set? You'll have to close your eyes and sink down a bit."

Maedhros smiled and obeyed, sinking low and letting his eyes slip closed. He could submit to this all morning, and he paddled and kicked absently in the spacious bath.

Fingon whispered endearments and pleasant nothings as he washed his husband's face and neck, gently rinsing the skin as he finished each area. "There. Now, back under the waterfall. I think the conditioner has been in long enough." They rinsed Maedhros' hair and moved back to the open part of the tub. "Almost ready to finish up and explore, or were you serious about staying in here until we're all pruney?"

Maedhros grinned. "Well, it is ours, so we can come back to it. We could look through Irissë's gifts and find something to wear before we explore? And breakfast whenever you're hungry."

“Clothing first, I think. As much as I love you naked.” Fingon kissed him lightly. “I’d like to go outdoors at some point today, if that’s alright. But before then you promised me a full breakfast. And we’re well on our way to working up an appetite.” He winked at Maedhros and, soap in hand, urged him onto the seat they had used before. He set about washing him tenderly but efficiently, coating every inch of skin with soap and rubbing it in gently.

Maedhros giggled. "That tickles, Finno," he said, and hugged Fingon and tried to wash him, too. "But yes, I did promise you a full breakfast. Chocolate pancakes? Or bacon waffles? A quiche with fruit salad?" They rinsed themselves off and dried with soft towels. "Here, let me braid your hair."

“Any of it! All of it! Well, maybe not all today.” Fingon considered. “Maybe quiche since we did have our first breakfast earlier, and we can save the heavier breakfasts for later this week?” He positioned himself in front of Maedhros and let his husband begin to untangle his wet hair.

"Yes, all right," Maedhros said. "With spinach, cheese and artichoke? Definitely no onions," he teased, braiding Fingon's hair quickly. "So tell me, where is this chest of wonders from our sister?"

Fingon suppressed a shudder and sent his husband a dark look. "Definitely no onions. Everything else sounds good. I think I saw some asparagus- we could add that too, if you want." He shrugged. "Um.. Irissë's chest is with some of mother's in the closet in our room. I fear mother's chests have made their way all around the house." He sent Maedhros a mischievous look. "Are you prepared to dig into our sister's trunk? If Turko helped her pack it, or snuck into it, or even if he didn't... who knows what we'll find."

Maedhros laughed. "After a bath like that, I feel ready for anything. Anyway we need clothes, and the ones I brought are all dirty now."

Meaning we'll have to do laundry soon. Bleh." Fingon played with the edge of his towel as Maedhros plaited his hair. "But for this morning I think we'll find any type of clothing we want. Remember the sketches Amil made?"

Yes, I remember. And you're right. I'll gladly do laundry," he offered. "It's not dishes. And I'm sure the amenities here are such that it won't be a burden." Taking Fingon's hand (once his hair was braided), he led them out to the bedroom and opened the closet.

"Agreed. We'll cook together, I'll do dishes, and you can take point on laundry." Fingon fell silent as they walked into the bedroom closet. "Russ," he whispered, hands trailing over the hanging garments. They could go for months without wearing an outfit twice if they so chose. From what was presumably his side of the closet, with slightly smaller outfits, Fingon pulled out a crimson tunic with gold embroidery along the collar and sleeves. "Gorgeous, but I'd be overdressed this morning... Perhaps we can try out outfits for each other this afternoon? If dearly like to see you in some of these. But for now..." The white trunk with silver I lays could only be from Irissë, and at the top Fingon found what he was looking for- light hiking or hunting clothing and just underneath it soft lounge clothing, still fashionable as his sister had strong feelings regarding aesthetically pleasing clothing.

Maedhros dressed to match, though in the same chest he found a few of what looked like sheer undergarments he wasn't even sure how to put on, and which he hoped Fingon didn't see. He dressed hurriedly in a soft tunic and trousers, and finished wringing out his hair as he hung up their towels to dry. "All right: breakfast!"

"Quiche! And I'll make the fruit salad!"  Fingon bounced out of the room happily, continually throwing glances as Maedhros. "You're as beautiful clothed as unclothed," he noted with a grin as he linked their arms together.

"Well, I should hope so," Maedhros said. "I've never worn lounge clothes that were so fashionable. I'm beginning to feel we shall never finish writing thank-you letters," he joked as they made their way up the stairs.

"We've been very blessed. Our entire family has been..." Fingon just smiled, unable to find words. They were wonderful. His father had been wonderful. And he was the luckiest Elda in Aman. "I suppose I should write the thank you for your fashionable lounge clothes- whatever pleasure you get from them I surely get threefold," Fingon added as they entered the kitchen. "Alright- apples, oranges, some melons- let me know if you need a hand with anything- pears, ooh! Dragon fruit!" Fingon continued go raid the fridge, piling up salad components. "Star fruit!" He added with an indecent moan, pulling out one.

Maedhros laughed at Fingon as he began to assemble his own ingredients. He had said quiche, but what he actually intended to make was a eggy pastry thing, and he first made his famous pastry dough and lined small ramekins with the stuff. He waved Fingon away when he looked like he was about to start asking questions and chopped asparagus, spinach, and deconstructed artichoke which he lightly fried up in a pan with eggs and cheese until they were still runny. This mixture he put into the ramekins, folded up the pastry lining, topped with cheese, and slid them into the oven. He grinned a challenge at Fingon.

"And I'm supposed to top that how?" Fingon swatted at his husband as he grinned. He went back to the fridge for two miniature watermelons and hollowed them, leaving baskets carved from the rind. He also found himself working a bit harder to make his salads aesthetically pleasing. "You motivate me to try harder at the very least." He tugged his husband to him, offering a sweet kiss and pressing a raspberry into Maedhros mouth.

"Mm," Maedhros said, arms winding around his husband. "You know that's hardly my intent! You _inspire_ these dishes, love. I only make them because I hope you will love them. Anyway, it's been on my mind to try this, and I may or may not have fed my family earlier, less-optimal versions of this dish which you can ask them about later. The Ambarussa refused to eat them the first time I tried it. Anyway." He shrugged and kissed Fingon again.

"Thank you. I'm happy to try your experimental dishes as well, but thank you. I'm sure they'll be exquisite." Fingon groped Maedhros' rear briefly, pulling him close before dancing away. "You have to let me finish the salads, now! I want them to look decent sitting next to your creation. Did you want juice with second breakfast, or should we make mimosas?"

"Ah, I think I'll have some tea, actually, though I wouldn't mind an excuse to go down to the wine cellar while you finish up, either," Maedhros said, kissing Fingon and descending into the wine cellar to search out a dry champagne. He found one quickly and returned to see Fingon pouring orange juice into champagne flutes.

"You can have some tea _and_ a mimosa," Fingon told him. "Or I'll have two flutes." He shrugged. "Did you find a good bottle?"

"That's my plan," Maedhros answered, closing the door to the cellar carefully, "and yes, I think so. It's a dry one, which will go nice with the sweetness of the orange juice, I think." Fingon knew he liked the dry champagnes _anyway_ , so he didn't add that. "Oh, you put on hot water. Thank you," he said, kissing Fingon's cheek as he rinsed out the cups and pot from before. "Shall we eat outside on the balcony?"

"That sounds lovely. Are your… creations almost ready? I can put the fruit salads and silverware out if they are." Fingon was pulling out forks and napkins and, at Maedhros' comment, loaded everything onto a tray to carry it onto the balcony. They only had to wait for the tea and the soufflés.

"Yes, just a few more minutes," Maedhros said, steeping the tea and pouring milk into a small creamer. He smiled as he watched Fingon, not bothering to hide his stares.

“See something you like?” Fingon spun around on his toes. “I’m all yours, arimelda. You know that.” His gaze wandered down Maedhros’ form and back up, eventually locking eyes with his husband. “This is your… kingdom… if you will. And I’ve had such fun having you in the kitchen. Will you tell me a truth, venno? Will you tell me what you’re thinking of, what you’re wanting to do when you look at me like you are?”

Maedhros laughed, and blushed. "You'll be disappointed. I was only thinking how very happy you make me, just being near, just being wonderful." He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Fingon, kissing him deeply. "But I can get more creative as soon as you like," he added with a wink as his hands wandered down to squeeze Fingon's fleshy backside.

Fingon squeaked before moaning softly, pressing back against Maedhros’ hand. “You’ll never disappoint me,” he murmured, shaking his head. He looked up at his husband. “But yes. If you want to get more creative, I would love to hear what other thoughts you can come up with.” I know you can be kinky and devious despite your chivalrous exterior, my dear. I’m married to you, remember?

Maedhros flushed even as his eyes alit. "Well," he hummed, letting his thoughts free rein, "I would have you--" But before he could finish, a small bell rang, and he jolted: "Ah, the souffles!" he cried, letting go of Fingon and rushing to the oven and pulling the tray out.

Fingon exhaled slowly, closing his eyes and trying to control himself. “Are they ready?” he queried, moving the tea onto his tray before picking it up.

Maedhros poked one experimentally before nodding, carrying the tray outside and leaning down to peck Fingon on the cheek. "I'll make it worth the wait," he whispered.

“Promise?” Fingon set his tray down and began to set their place, torn between looking at the food, which smelled delicious, his husband who in his eyes outshone the stars, and their valley, which was still new and filled with secrets for them to uncover. “It smells amazing,” he said quietly, his stomach quickly making its agreement known. “Shall we?” He held up his flute for a celebratory toast before they ate.

Maedhros smiled and toasted, sipping at the mimosa before pouring himself and Fingon some tea. "It's going to be hot," he warned about the souffle as he began eating his fruit salad. "Mm, this is delicious, Finno! And beautiful. All my favorite fruits. Thank you."

"Anything for my favorite husband." Fingon beamed at him. "The water's calling to me. I think it wants us to explore later. But for now... food!" Fingon ate a large portion of his salad before taking a tentative bite of the souffle, careful in case it was still hot. "Russandol," he moaned after he swallowed. "Nelyafinwë Maitimo Russandol, be mine forever and cook with me?" He brought his hands together pleadingly. "You are amazing. And your cooking is positively indecent. You gave this to your family? Are you sure that was appropriate?"

Maedhros laughed. "Findekáno, I am already yours and will cook for you forever. And I gave my family the less perfected versions of this." He kissed Fingon's offered knuckles and smiled. "But your enjoyment of them means everything in the world to me. Thank you." He smiled, and moved to sit on the bench beside Fingon so he could have his arm around him.

"You're welcome. And thank _you_!" Fingon leaned against his husband's side contentedly, continuing to eat his soufflé. He wound up having to work to slow down and savor the treat rather than demolishing it quickly.

"I made extra, so you can have another," Maedhros said. "They keep all right for one day but are better fresh, so eat all you want. I'll roll you back to bed if I need to," he said, nipping at his ear.

"Hmm, I want to be mobile for you, but you're more than welcome to roll me over." Fingon snagged another piece with his fork. "Thank you. These are delicious! What about you? Aren't you enjoying them?"

Maedhros pursed his lips, trying not to laugh too hard at the (accidentally?) suggestive comment. "Yes, well--" he said, and: "Of course I'm enjoying it. I just enjoy you enjoying it more, I think." He did polish off the rest of his soufflé, and went back for more fruit, though he eyed the last two soufflés. "We could split one," he offered, pouring more tea, "unless you want a whole one."

"Splitting sounds good." Fingon enjoyed sharing food and drinks with his husband, and looked pleased at the idea. "How are you feeling? I'm feeling all loose and... fluid after our bath. Like a cat- cats are liquids, right?" He elbowed Maedhros lightly, looking up at him with a happy, content expression. "Do you want to cut it and I'll pick my half or shall I cut it and you choose?"

Maedhros then pushed his empty plate away and pulled Fingon's in between them, loading it up with another soufflé and lots more fruit. "You cut and I'll take the small one," he said, sitting with his arm around Fingon and holding him close as he drank more tea and nibbled on the fruit. "It's a wonderful fruit salad. Thank you."

Fingon laughed. "Normally you're supposed to pick the bigger one," he teased. "But then, you always spoil me." He made the cut carefully, leaving two identical pieces on the plates. "And you're very welcome. Nothing compared to your contribution, but I did try. Our family certainly stocked the kitchen well for us!"

Maedhros chuckled, taking the souffle up in his hand and eating it thusly (now that it had cooled and set it was easy to eat with his hands). He popped a few raspberries into his mouth and finished off his mimosa before leaning in to whisper in Fingon's ear: "I suppose you'd like to know what I was going to tell you earlier," he said with a grin.

"Russ! Don't tease like that unless you mean to tell me." Fingon turned to brush their lips together before Maedhros pulled back. "Do you feel what you're already doing to me? Valar, Russ, it's like my hröa was made for you. The simplest hint or phrase and I'm already… I need you so much, even sitting here beside you." He brushed Maedhros' hair back, fingers trailing over the not quite dry locks. "Please tell me what you were going to tell me earlier."

"I was thinking," Maedhros said, his breath hot on Fingon's neck, "how beautiful those lips of yours and your throat would look stretched around my cock while I'm finishing breakfast," he growled, gauging Fingon's reaction before continuing: "Out here in the open. You better be quick about it, too, because I would hate it if someone saw you like that." Already his own heart was hammering nervously in his chest at the idea. If anyone's perverted brethren were hiding out somewhere to try to catch them in the act, it would be his, but he set his jaw determinedly. "How about it?" he prompted, trying to sound more forceful than he felt.

Fingon stood quickly, and gave a brief glance out over the valley before focusing on his husband. "Yes," he whispered. "Please. I would worship thee." He framed Maedhros' face with his hands and kissed him before dropping gracefully to his knees. Maedhros rarely started semi-public displays of affection or more than displays of affection, and Maedhros suggesting such a thing was, on its own, more than enough to leave Fingon achingly hard. "Venno," he whispered, leaning forward and allowing his lips to graze the front of his husband's trousers. He kept his hands safely on his Maedhros' hips to lessen the temptation to touch himself. "Beautiful." He glanced up and met Maedhros' eyes, breathily warmly over where his hardening flesh was beginning to tent his pants. "I would feast on thee."

"Good, for I wish this, too, arimeldanya," Maedhros hummed, laying his hands over Fingon's where they rested on his knees. "Now no hands," he decided suddenly. "I want to see you use your teeth."

"Alright. Anything. Everything. For you." Fingon bent down, mouthing over Maedhros and letting his teeth close gently around the bulging fabric. He moaned softly at the feel of his husband even through the cloth. Can you imagine a hundred hundred breakfasts out here? Perhaps we'll not even get dressed and wear robes out sometimes. Fingon moaned again, remembering a day long ago in Maedhros' suite when he and his husband had lounged in soft robes and played chess. And he remembered Maedhros asking him to spank him for the first time, and he remembered them joking about the robe providing easy access. He shivered and increased the efforts of his mouth and tongue on his husband, imagining what fun their new wardrobes would allow for here in their valley home.

"I--ahhh--" Maedhros groaned, hands threading through Fingon's hair. "You're getting distracted, darling," he teased, tugging slightly.

Sorry. Sorry. Fingon licked at the fabric of his trousers apologetically and nosed up to where they were fastened. With you. Here, now. Tyë melin, vennonya. This is wonderful. You're so clever, so wonderful- you have such amazing ideas. With tongue and teeth and careful movements of his head Fingon undid the trousers and tugged them down far enough to reveal Maedhros' arousal. "Perfect," he whispered with another lick, this one against warm skin. "Anvanya. Gorgeous." He leaned down again, inviting Maedhros to guide him if he wished, and began a small series of nips and licks without taking Maedhros deep. His husband wanted pleasure, and until directed otherwise he was happy to work towards driving Maedhros mad with it.

"Ahhffuck, Finno," Maedhros whispered, letting his head fall back and simply enjoy this. With his eyes closed he could almost forget that they were in a very public sphere, and if anyone was riding up to wish them well or simply annoy them, they would be--

But no one was. No one would be. It didn't matter if they were. Because Fingon. Because perfect clever lips and tongue and teeth, because of warm breath and tight throat and loving, joyful dedication. "Good boy, perfect, you feel so good, my Finno, love you," he hummed, nudging the back of Fingon's head gently closer.

Fingon relaxed and took him deeply, holding him for a timeless minute before pulling back and returning to teasing licks and sucking lightly on his head. You wouldn't even care, would you? Do you have any idea how arousing that is? Can you feel what it's doing to me, knowing that anyone could ride up and you wouldn't stop--you'd let us continue. And they would see you enjoying your fruit salad, they would see your head thrown back in pleasure and your hair catching the tree light… and then they would see me, kneeling at your feet and worshiping you. And they would realize how perfect I look here, bringing you pleasure. Fingon shifted, his own trousers becoming less than comfortable. "Russandol," he moaned softly as he pulled back and breathed deeply before returning to his task.

"Ohhh," Maedhros moaned, then, "oh," he said. He was supposed to be eating. Somehow he had it in his head that Fingon could be serving him like this and he could be casually eating at the same time, that somehow he could have that power--when, of course, Fingon had the power over him, to command all his focus. "You--you are--" everything, wonder, perfection, a wonder, light, life.

"Yours," Fingon said breathlessly as he pulled back. As you are mine. "Will you… will you tell me what else you imagined? Should I bring you straight to the edge, or did you imagine me teasing you for what felt like time unending? Do you want me to determine how I should move, or do you want a hand in my hair pulling and guiding me?" He gave Maedhros a longing lick before sitting back and waiting for him to answer.

"I--I want you to p-proceed as you wish. If I grab your hair and force you, it's because you've done too well, and I cannot help myself." He brushed Fingon’s hair gently. "When I grab you and bend you over this table and fill you with me, paint your insides until you're howling, you'll know you've done exactly what I want you to do."

Fingon moaned, lurching forward to take Maedhros into his mouth. He breathed deeply through his nose, whining around his husband and rocking his entire body forward as he began to fuck Maedhros with his mouth. So good, he thought. Like velvet over steel. So big, Russ. Big and hard and you feel so good. Beautiful and mine.

" _Damn_ it, Fin," Maedhros gasped, gripping his hair and grinding his teeth. Velvet over steel. It wasn't as if his hot wet wriggling tongue wasn't enough, but the things he _said_ , the things Maedhros overheard, the things he _felt_ (that was _exactly_ what it felt like)! "Findekáno!" he yelped, his voice echoing off the canyon.

It wasn’t enough- Maedhros was clutching at his hair but was still partially in control. Fingon wanted his voice echoing off the canyon walls even louder. He wanted someone who hadn’t even entered the valley to know exactly what was happening in it. He growled around Maedhros as he swallowed him, sucking and lathing and doing everything in his power to drive his cousin to the edge with lips, teeth, and tongue.

At first Fingon's mouth entirely stole his breath, but the next moment had him howling at the sky like some sort of cur. His legs shook, and he was sure, for one blinding moment, that it was all over, that he would spend too soon, but then his body responded, and he hauled Fingon up and crashed their lips together as his hands forced entry to Fingon's trousers. "You think you're still wet and open enough for me?" he hissed, something in his eyes a bit wild.

"I-- I, I... ah, y-yeah. Yes. Open. Ready." Don't care if it hurts. Don't care if it burns a bit. "Please. Russ." Fingon was breathing harshly, each words coming out with a fast breath, almost a pant. "Please, please, please." Fingon pressed forward, aching and needing Maedhros' touch. Now that he wasn't focused on a task he was caught up in his husband's desire which only fed his own which increased Maedhros' need in turn. "So good. So perfect. Please have me- right here in the open. Where anyone can see. Show the world that we belong to each other. Please, Russ."

"I'm not going to _hurt_ you," Maedhros said, slathering his fingers in the butter dish and forcing Fingon open, "I don't _damage_ things that belong to me, I _use_ them," he growled, suddenly possessive (possibly the being outside, for all the world to see, was doing this to him). "And you belong to me, as I am yours," he said, pushing himself inside Fingon after he was sufficiently stretched, and once he was here he sighed, and slid one hand around Fingon's sex while the other held down the back of his neck, "and you're the most beautiful treasure that could ever be mine, and I am going to take care of you."

Fingon moaned loudly, not making any attempt to muffle the sounds he was making. "Russandol. Venno, prince-- oh!" His hips were jerking under Maedhros involuntarily as he sought more movement within him and any possibly relief for his aching arousal. Maedhros was strong, forceful and possessive without being cruel and even in his roughness there was something careful and tender, as though even here and now Fingon was to be protected. Fingon shouted with the mindless pleasure of it, enjoying every movement and helplessly in love with his husband, straining against him as they joined in the bright light of day.

"That's my boy, that's my Fin," Maedhros purred, working into a gentle but forceful rhythm as he continued to hold Fingon firmly at neck and groin. "I love you so much. Can you feel what you do to me? Can you _feel_ it?" He felt under a spell, almost as if he were an outside observer watching them come together--except that he felt _everything_ in such perfect detail: the tightness of Fingon's channel, his pulse under his fingers, his leaking arousal. And he could feel what Fingon felt, too, as he pawed his way inside, bossing, possessing, but as loving and careful as he was demanding. "Don't care who sees. Don't give a damn. Want everyone to know." He thrust a few more times, panting, before, "Fin, I want you to come, want to feel you, want to fuck you when you're all worn out and soft." He leaned down to lick at his ear: "Will you do that for me, darling?"

Fingon nodded jerkily. "Y-yes. Please Russ. May-- may I? Now?" Ready. Melindo, pleaaase. Fingon was already on the edge, would have been from his husband's words alone. And what Maedhros was feeling... He whined begging for sweet release, pleading for Maedhros to let him finish and to continue using Fingon's hroa for his own pleasure. He was writhing where Maedhros pinned him, circling his hips and meeting Maedhros' movements, thrusting back onto Maedhros even harder. Everything was good and perfect and he could hear running water down in the valley and wind through the trees. Birds were singing in the distance and he gripped the edge of the table hard _daring_ Manwë to watch, daring anyone to come see, because Maedhros wanted him and needed him. His husband was starting to lose himself in Fingon's body and Fingon was proud of him, of them, and for the moment he would happily scream that out for the world to hear.

"Yes, now," Maedhros said, jerking his hand, wrenching completion from him, glorying in the tightness and warmth, almost tumbling over the edge himself so that he had to pause. "Ohh, Fin," he said, gentling him, kissing the back of his neck.

"Russ! R-Russandol!" Fingon's hands scrambled on the table as he finished on command, and he could _feel_ Maedhros desperate and wanting behind him. He squeezed around his husband and, as Maedhros gentled him, he lifted one hand and moved it back, brushing along Maedhros' neck and hair. "S'good. So good. Venno-- vennonya are you going to claim me now? Fuck me while I'm soft and warm and… I don't know if I can even move right now." Fingon clamped down around him for a moment, but that was the extent of the movement he was willing to make. Tyë melin, he whispered along the bond, relaxed and pleased. Thank you-- perfect. I want to bring you pleasure now, want to try to make you feel as good as you make me.

Coming dangerously close to the edge at that, Maedhros smacked Fingon sharply on the rear. "You stop that." He kicked his legs further apart until he was clinging to the table for dear life and was only supported by his cock. "Want you loose and relaxed. I can take my own pleasure in you without aid, I assure you. Just lie there and take it," he demanded, moving his hand to pet Fingon's hair. "Love you," he said with a sigh a moment later as Fingon relaxed. "My good boy, I love you, you feel so good like this."

Fingon shivered and let his head hang limply. Sorry. Just want you happy. Just tell me what to do. He lay quiescently until Maedhros began to build up speed again. Then he tilted his head to the side and his lips curled upward. "Do you think Manwë his watching?" He spoke in a near silent whisper that Maedhros strained to here. He continued silently. Do you think he's watching how well you take me, how you make me completely yours? Do you think he's checking on us, and realizing how perfect you look over me, how desperately our hröar and fear yearn for each other? Do you think he's waiting to see how blissful and beautiful and bright you look in completion?

"I don't _care_ if he is," Maedhros snarled, pressing Fingon roughly to the table until he could hear him struggling to breathe, and then letting up as he bent over him and wrapped his arms around him, pressing his back to his chest. "Love you. Don't want you to _do_ anything." He kissed Fingon's neck and straightened up, to being ploughing into him in earnest, grunting and panting and needing to finish.

Fingon looked out across the valley and focused on Maedhros' arms around him and chest pressed against him. He focused on the feeling of his husband moving in and out and his arms and legs twitched desperately for a few seconds, needing something his body was currently unable to give. Finally he felt himself rocking forward slightly with Maedhros' movements and giving in to his husband completely. My husband,he thought quietly, fëa glowing. My handsome, strong, thoughtful husband. He reveled in the fact that Maedhros took such joy- he could feel it, along with his husband's need-- from him, from simply having him. And as Maedhros drew close to the edge all Fingon could think was I love you. Tyë melin, Russandol. I love you.

I love you, melindo, vennonya, Maedhros whispered into the ear of his heart. Love you. Mine. Beautiful. Going to fill you up. Can you take it? Can you take all of me? So beautiful. Love you. "Fin--" he gasped. "Gonna--I'm gonna--" he groaned, his thrusts growing erratic.

All of you, Fingon agreed contentedly. "Anything, my prince. Anything you want. My hröa aches for you and I would have everything you will give me. Tyë melin." He moved slightly, languidly, and settled in Maedhros' arms.

A few more jerks into the willing body and Maedhros was there, over the edge, falling spending into the hot tightness, and he was bellowing, screaming to the canyon and to the sky and to the water and the earth until he was sure he could be heard in Tirion--but he didn't care. He was with Fingon. He cared about that. Hs beautiful soft loving perfect good warm Fingon. He went weak and his vision grayed as he fell over the top of Fingon, pinning him to the table and gasping like he had run a marathon.

Fingon moaned feebly, feeling crushed under Maedhros but enjoying his husband's weight. "Good. Thank you, Russandol. That was… thank you." He tried to turn his head, gave up, and lay on the table. And, as they had finished, he took the opportunity to squeeze tightly around Maedhros, providing the only embrace he could as they were currently positioned.

"Ah, fuck," Maedhros squeaked, biting his ear gently. "Let me--just--" he just needed a minute, and buried his face in Fingon's perfect hair.

"Told you," Fingon whispered. "I'd do _anything_ for you, Russ." I'm let you get me on my knees and fuck my worn out hröa, didn't I? "Just want to be with you. Want to be close to you. Want to hold you as you're holding me." He moved one hand far enough to grab Maedhros', fitting their palms together and linking their fingers. "Love you so much. Thank you for doing this." He was well aware they were outside Maedhros' normal comfort zone, but his husband had asked, and it felt so good. He smiled at the feeling of Maedhros' face in his hair, moaning softly as he felt his husband’s breath against his skin.

With a groan, Maedhros sat back pulling Fingon onto his lap and nuzzling him. He pulled up his own trousers, and righted Fingon's, but his hand wandered down the back of Fingon's trousers to probe at his entrance almost absently, the wetness and looseness giving under his fingers a wonderful feeling. "Love you. I love you," he hummed. "Thank you." As his mind began to clear a bit: "Sorry. I didn't hurt you, did I? Sorry I--out here--" but he didn't move his hand from it's place down Fingon's trousers.

"No! No, of course not. Never, Russ. You didn't--you wouldn't." Fingon wrapped an arm around Maedhros and pressed tightly against him. "It was perfect-- wonderful." Fingon blushed. "I didn't think you would want to do something like that but… you made me feel incredible. And I'll never complain about you using my hröa as you did. I like that you find pleasure in me." He looked up at Maedhros. "Kiss me?"

Maedhros wanted nothing more than to kiss him, so he grabbed the back of his neck and crashed their lips together, the possessiveness streak having not quite warn off, and he slid one finger in and out of his hole while they kissed. "I love you," he said when they parted. "And I'm glad. We could do this again, if you like."

"I'd like that," Fingon said, smiling faintly and nodding. This had helped him to come up with new plans of his own for Maedhros, but he certainly wouldn't be opposed to repeating the experience. He trembled as the finger within him shifted. "Mmm. You seem determined to keep me from being able to stand let alone walk. I think you've worn me out, darling. Or, at the very least, I'll need to stretch a bit before attempting anything too strenuous."

Maedhros grinned wolfishly. "Oh no, you've discovered my wicked plan," he laughed, finally removing his hand and licking it clean. "Shall I carry you inside with the dishes, or should we stay out here a while longer? Who knows how soon I might be overbold again?"

"Well that's a reason to stay," Fingon answered with a smile. "Not overbold, just… bold. Strong. Possessive. I like it," he added and punctuated the statement with a small kiss. He arched his back, stretching languidly, and kissed Maedhros again, longer this time. "And I'd very much like to do this again. And then perhaps another time it will be you out here on your knees. I think I'd have you right by the balcony, on your knees and pleasuring me while I grip the rail, looking out over our home. Or trying to look out, rather, as my eyes would be drawn back to you incessantly. Would you enjoy that?"

"I would," Maedhros replied, with the railing at his back and a sheer drop behind him, and he shivered, and nuzzled Fingon's hair. He smiled. "I confess I would be afraid, but you would erase those fears." He held Fingon close.

"I don't want you afraid," Fingon whispered, carding his fingers through Maedhros' hair. "I'd take very good care of you. I'd never let you fall-- I'd keep you safe. And I'd keep you pleased and aroused. And I'd bury my hands in your hair just to remind you that I was thinking of you and that I love you."

"I know," Maedhros said, kissing his cheek. "Of course you would." He lowered his voice to a whisper: "I would only be just afraid enough to need you very desperately."

"Of course I would," Fingon whispered in agreement, petting him. "I like the idea of you needing me very desperately. Like I need you." He slumped against his husband, letting Maedhros keep him upright as he relaxed. "And we would stop if you didn't like it. But for now, I quite like what we're doing. Was it as good as you were imagining earlier?"

"Better," Maedhros answered. "How could I not like anything we ever did?" He insisted, nosing at his hair and neck.

"Good point." Fingon hugged him close and relaxed, not quite dozing and not quite awake, enjoying the warmth of the day and of Maedhros and the gentle breeze blowing through the valley.

Maedhros let them rest for an hour at least, just touching and holding each other, warm in the treelight and cooled by the breeze. He was scratching Fingon's back and kissing him gently, hands running through his hair. Once he had finished his mimosa entirely, and his tea was stone cold, he squeezed Fingon slightly. "Ready to go inside, love?”

Squeezing back Fingon nodded, trying to wake himself fully. "Mhmm. Thank you. This was… the best morning imaginable. You make me so very happy, love." He stood, slightly wobbly at first, and then offered Maedhros a hand. "Stretch time," he muttered with a cheeky grin. "Do you want to go for our walk in a little while and explore a bit? It's so beautiful out today."

"Stretch time?" Maedhros said, grinning slightly, stacking the dishes. "Can I watch?" he asked lecherously.

In answer Fingon raised his arms above his head, arching his back and letting his neck fall backward, hair cascading to his rear. After holding the post for half a minute he bent forward, legs straight and head touching his calves. It had the happy side effect of displaying his rear for his husband, and he smiled, glancing backward at Maedhros who had finished piling the dishes and silverware and was focused on him.

"Mm, you can hold that position as long as you like," Maedhros teased, glad for the view of his backside. He was almost ready to tug Fingon's trousers down and eat him out right here--but he had another plan for later. "Or don't. Not sure if we'll ever make it inside otherwise."

“Very well. As my prince says.” Fingon stood slowly, uncurling his spine and rolling his shoulders. “This was a _good_ morning. If you carry everything in I’ll wash up and then we can head out. Do you want to grab a couple of apples and waterskins?”

Fingon moved fluidly, beautifully, but Maedhros made himself wait. "Yes. All right," he agreed, taking up the trays and leading the way inside. He set them down and quickly gathered items for their walk, including the last quiche wrapped in cloth.

Staring after his husband for a moment, mesmerized by the flow of fabric as he moved, Fingon quickly jogged to catch up. He made it to the kitchen and started washing off plates, setting them in the rack to dry. “Everything was _delicious_ this morning. Especially your dish,” Fingon praised, glancing over at Maedhros, who was pulling fruit from the cold box. “And especially you,” he added, not quite an afterthought.

Maedhros bit his lip. "You know--I haven't had a chance to taste you yet," he said. "No--no, don't stop," he added quickly, as Fingon turned from the sink. "If you don't mind washing the dishes for me, I can just--help myself," Maedhros said, slipping to his knees behind Fingon where he stood over the sink.

“Just remove my trousers completely, please. I don’t want to be tripping over them while I try to finish washing.” Fingon tried to suppress the full body shiver as Maedhros dropped to his knees, instead focusing on repeated movements as he washed a place or piece of silverware and then moved it onto the rack, reaching for the next piece.

Maedhros slid his trousers down reverently, helping him to step out of each leg before setting his mouth directly to Fingon's entrance, tongue wide and flat as he pressed against him. "Ah," he said, nudging Fingon's legs further apart. "Love the taste of me in you," he hummed, slipping his tongue shallowly in and out of Fingon.

Fingon saved the plate he was holding as he fell forward, his free hand dropping to grip the edge of the sink, bracing him as his husband entered him. “Oh, _Valar_ , Russ,” he breathed reverently. “You… ah! So good. Love your tongue. Want you to kiss me after. I want to taste you.” He breathed deeply through his nose, eventually regaining enough control to go back to washing the second to last plate and set it in the rack.

Maedhros groaned, breathing hot between Fingon's legs. "Yes," he said, between gentle licks. "Just don't break anything." Then, he slipped between Fingon's legs and turned around with his back to the sink to take Fingon's sex in his mouth. "Mm!" he moaned happily, sitting down on the floor and wrapping his arms loosely around Fingon's legs.

Fingon swallowed roughly. He set the plate he was working on in the sink and dried off his hands, reaching down to bury them in the crown of Maedhros’ hair. “Venno,” he groaned. “Your tongue should be labeled a dangerous weapon, Nelyafinwë.” His hips were rocking- he could minimize the movement but could not altogether stop it- and his hands were touching and caressing, rubbing circles into Maedhros’ scalp before returning to comb through his hair carelessly. “Love you, my Russ.”

Maedhros gargled and pulled off Fingon. "You get those dishwater hands out of my hair," he snapped, half-joking. "You stop washing, I stop sucking," he warned, making a game out of it as he slipped Fingon's hardness back into his mouth.

“That’s hardly fair,” Fingon said, swatting Maedhros’ head before returning to washing. “There’s only one plate left and the tray. And I rinsed my hands off, darling. Besides, if I did get your hair all messy, that would just mean I’d need to wash it out again for you. Is that such a hardship?” He focused on the plate, managing to get it clean without dropping it, and moved their tray into the sink, giving it a cursory rinse though no food appeared to have fallen on it.

Taking a deep breath, Maedhros swallowed Fingon down to the root entirely, until his nose was pressed against his belly, and he swallowed and groaned. Delicious. Love you in my mouth, filling my throat. Love this. He pulled back, cocking his head and sucking in a twirling motion.

“Feels amazing, melda.” Fingon set the tray on edge to dry and washed his hands with hand soap, drawing them and moaning as he buried them again in his husband’s hair. “Will you- will you put your fingers in me?” he asked with a breathless smile. He was torn between looking out the window and looking down at his husband, who looked gorgeous on his knees and wrapped around Fingon.

Maedhros moaned in acknowledgement, hands creeping back to squeeze his fleshy backside, before his fingers snuck in between his cheeks and probed him. You're still wet and warm and open. Will you let me taste you? Will you feed me?

Of course. Soon. Your mouth is incredible, Russ. So we warm welcoming. Your hröa just lets me in. He shuddered as Maedhros’ fingers found the spot they were searching for. As mine welcomes you, he added, the thought heavy with a moan he released aloud. “Close,” he warned his husband. “If you keep doing that I’ll finish.”

Good. Want you so. Want to taste you so badly. Love feeling you hard in my mouth, like velvet on steel. He bobbed his head, keeping Fingon exactly where he wanted him with his fingers pressing inside, seeking out that spot—

Fingon let out a strangled laugh. You stole that from me! It is nice, isn’t it. Love the feel of you in my mouth, the taste of you, the way your body feels around me, welcoming me in. He shouted as Maedhros’ fingers rubbed against him deliciously as his husband swallowed him down, throat rippling around him. Hands still buried in Maedhros’ hair Fingon spent, finally moving one hand to brace himself against the sink. Maitimo, he thought, slightly dizzy and the world buzzing around him. Oh you _are_ trying to make me useless for the day. My perfect love you spoil me so.

Maedhros groaned in pleasure as he swallowed Fingon's gift, licking him clean before pulling back and grinning like the cat who got the cream (and wasn't that apt?). "Not useless. Just--mine. So you can't run away." He giggled, pulling Fingon onto his lap, still massaging his rump and pressing him against his chest. "Ah, I love you. Love you so much. Everything about you."

“Have I told you today how much I love you?” Fingon looked up at Maedhros, smiling. “Yours,” he agreed willingly. “And I won’t run away. Well, I won’t unless you’re chasing me. Then I have to make you work for your prize. Kiss me now?” Fingon tilted his head up hopefully, fingers gently massaging Maedhros’ back.

Maedhros kissed him deeply, their tongues sliding lazily together, and his hands wandered until he held him close, entirely close and warm. "Mm, love you," he whispered. "Have I said that to you today? That, and thank you."

“Thank you?” Fingon’s hand trailed down to press against Maedhros’ arousal. “Are you sure the word you’re looking for isn’t please?” He was smiling, relaxed and comfortable where he was situated on his husband. He tugged lightly at Maedhros’ hair, reminding him to answer.

Maedhros whined and shifted. "Uhn? P-please," he whispered, eyes glazing over as he clunked his head back against the cabinet.

Fingon leaned in and kissed him deeply, tongue mimicking what his fëa yearned to do to Maedhros, though his body was, for the moment, sated. “Not here,” he whispered against his husband’s ear. “Let’s find a couch in one of the sitting rooms on this floor. I want you on a sofa-- remember the first time you allowed me to bring you pleasure? You were so uncertain about letting me touch you, and I desperately wanted you in my mouth. I’d like to have you like that again, relaxing on soft cushions with your hands wound through my hair.” He pulled back, pecking Maedhros on the cheek before he stood, offering a hand to his husband who sat, staring up at him with glazed eyes.

Maedhros blinked at him for a moment, before pulling his knees together, embarrassed as much of his arousal as he was at the reminder of that time (how his stomach tightened in nervousness at the idea of letting Fingon touch him so, how much he had initially loathed the idea of Fingon on his knees before him). "I--I didn't want to risk losing control--" he stammered.

"It's alright. And you trusted me that evening, remember?" Trusted him, or was too aroused to think too much about it in the end. But either way they had come together and it had been beautiful. "You were wonderful. And so gentle with me, my darling. I have very good memories of that weekend... one of which I would like to reprise with you." He wrapped his arms around Maedhros when he was on his feet, burying his face in his husband's chest. "You were wonderful. You /are/ wonderful. And I love you so very much." His found Maedhros' desire again and rubbed at him through his trousers. "Come on-- let's find a room with a decent sofa and a thick rug on the floor."

Maedhros wasn’t sure he could walk, as hard as he was right now, but somehow he managed it, following Fingon meekly, blushing and grinning. “Do you have to be on the floor?” Maedhros blurted out. “Would rather have you on the couch with me.”

Fingon shook his head, grinning back at Russ. “You’re ruining the perfect replication, melda, but I think we could do that. Save my knees now that I’m turning into an old man- married and everything.” He stuck his tongue out at his husband. “I suppose we could lay you back on the couch and I could just crawl down to the far end… and then back up to relax on top of you. You’re volunteering for cushion duty, though!”

Pleasure rumbled in Maedhros' chest. "I would like nothing better, you know that," he said, through eyes half-lidded. "P-please Finno," he gasped, desperate.

“Here!” Fingon picked a door to a room that overlooked the valley and pulled Maedhros along into it. “What do you think? Will this sofa do?” He hesitated and then turned the piece of furniture so that it faced the window.

Maedhros sighed, following him obediently. "Yes, yes, it's lovely," he said, plopping down hurriedly on it, tugging Fin on top of him. "Please, please, Finno," he purred.

“You act like you didn’t enjoy tormenting me while I was washing up,” Fingon muttered, but he was smiling and began kissing a path down his husband’s body. “Luckily for you, I cannot get enough of you, arimeldanya. And I want to taste you soon. Will you spend in my mouth and let me swallow you down?” His tongue delved into Maedhros’ navel teasingly, licking at his abdomen and the v of muscle leading down to where his husband most wanted him.

"Yes, well--" Maedhros huffed, hips bucking. It was just _easier_ to torment Fingon because, well, it was just so delicious, and he was so cute. Maedhros couldn't imagine he looked cute like this, spread out and flushed and awkward and sweating and needy.

“Too much?” Fingon sat back, smiling at his husband’s unhappy groan. “Or not enough?” He sank down again, lower this time, taking Russ into his mouth and moaning around him. “You taste exquisite,” he murmured, pulling off to lick at him. Wonderful. And the _sounds_ you make. I could listen to you all day.

Maitimo yelped, bucking and squirming wildly, as he tangled a fist in Fingon's hair and another white-knuckled the couch behind him. "Oh, Fin--ohh," he groaned. "Yes, please, please more?"

Fingon nodded, back up to gulp for ear before descending, swallowing his husband down. Is this what you wanted? Or do you still want more? He shifted his weight to one hand and moved the other one up, gently circling around his entrance. Good? Valar you’re beautiful.

Maedhros rendered up a full-body shudder, going weak and spasming like one in a trance. He gulped but could swallow no air. "Oh, Fin," he pleaded, rocking his hips helplessly. Yes, yes, that, just like that. Want. Please.

I love you, Fingon thought fervently. He shifted, laying on Russ’ thigh and stroking up his lover’s side with his free hand. You’re incredible. Here- you can move up a little, if you need to. He began a gentle rhythm, pulling up to take a breath before descending again and swallowing around Russ.

"Oh-oh-oh!" Maedhros cried, in ever higher pitches. "Findekáno!" he exclaimed, trying to move but failing. "Please, please, I'm close, so close, gonna--won't you fuck me, please?" With your fingers with your tongue with your foot I don't give a damn please!

Fingon half fell at Russ’ words, dropping down and moaning loudly around his husband’s girth. Valar, Russandol! He pulled off slowly. “Do you feel what you’re doing to me? Want to taste your entrance- but don’t finish. I want you in my mouth when you finish, alright?” He shifted down further and pushed Russ’ knees up, tilting his hips before lowering his head to delicately lap at Russ’ entrance and the slip his tongue within.

"Ahh-hhaaaah!" Maedhros cried, legs kicking helplessly. "Oh, Fin, I don't want--please want--" How had he gone from almost finishing to not allowed? And yet, Fingon was opening him up so gloriously and wetly, and he could feel his breath on his balls and oh Valar-- He threw a hand over his face and groaned.

I love you, Russ. I love thee. I adore thee. I cherish thee. I love you such much… Fingon’s thoughts focused on his husband, filled with love and tenderness and desire that his body could not show yet. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, pulling back to lick over Maedhros’ entrance. “And amazing.” He licked into him one more time before replacing his tongue with a finger and moving up to take Maedhros in his throat again.

"Oh _fuck_!" Maedhros cried, grabbing Fingon's hair with both hands and beginning to rut into him wantonly. NeedyoumorepleaseyespleasemayI may I come please "Need to--may I?--going to finish--!"

Now. Please, husband, let me taste you. Fingon moved to hold Maedhros’ hips with both hands, steadying his husband as he swallowed around him. Perfect. You’re perfect, beloved.

Maedhros cried out and rocked into Fingon's perfect mouth, screaming at the top of his lungs and body jerking wantonly, unmeasured, probably awkwardly, but he didn't care. When he could see through the white of his vision, and his body had stopped jerking, but not stopped twitching, he fell back, blinking up at Fingon, squeaking softly, needily. "Oh, Fin," he gasped, reaching for him, wanting, _needing_ to be held, feeling small and loved, like he was made of love, like he was something Fingon could wrap around and keep hold of in the depths of his fëa. "Findekáno," he sighed, curling into him, opening up himself so Fingon could feel, so Fingon could see.

Fingon moaned, embracing Maedhros' waist as he continued to mouth over him. You are… every dream I've had, everything I've ever wanted to be, every passion that's filled my chest. And better than I could have ever imagined. I love you, vennonya. Thank you. He trembled lightly, sharing Russ' pleasure and joy and happiness. "I love you," he whispered as he finally pulled off, gently cleaning his husband before crawling up him to lie in Maedhros' arms. "Hold me?" He smiled tenderly and offered his lips for a gentle kiss.

Maedhros wrapped his arms around Fingon, as tightly as he could, and he lifted a shaking leg to wrap it around him, too. "Love you. Thank you," he whispered, blinking lethargically, and smiled.

"My one and only, my Maitimo," Fingon whispered. "I love thee. How I love thee. Am I alright here? Are you comfortable? I don't want to move, if we can just stay like this for a while."

"Don't move," Maedhros whispered, closing his eyes as he pet Fingon's hair. "Please don't move. You are perfect just like this. So comfortable. Love you. Love you." He hummed tunelessly.

"I'm happy to stay like this." Fingon kissed him and rested his cheek on Russ' chest. "Look-- our valley looks beautiful today. Our… close to home valley." The other valley would always be Their Valley to Fingon.

"Yes," Maedhros said, stroking Fingon's back, scratching it gently with his nails. "It is beautiful. A wonderful view." He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly in a contented sigh. "I love you," he declared, and broke into song: one of the many hundreds of verses of their love song, singing boldly until it rang against the walls, and out the windows into the valley. He giggled sheepishly when he finished, and smiled at Fingon. "Oh: a storm is brewing in the east. See the clouds? Ossë must be up to mischief."

"Hmm. It will be good for the plants. And we can see the river racing. Will you hold me? If you want… we could even go out on one of the balconies for a little while and dance under the rain before running in for-" he paused and grinned against his husband's chest, "well, for a shower, perhaps, and cuddling in front of a fire. Will you hold me while the skies rumble and light up the valley in flashes bright as treelight?"

Maedhros' eyes lit up. "Yes, yes, yes!" he cried, feeling loose and free and impulsive, and very, very young. "I would love that," he said, kissing Fingon's lips. "All of that. Any of it. We will have such fun!" He giggled, and wasn't even ashamed of his frivolity.

"We can make a… well, not a fort, but we'll make a… a boat, a raft! A secret place with blankets and pillows in our room close to the hearth. A place of our own." He grinned, remembering similar occurrences when they were children. "I always have fun with you. You taught me to love life, and you taught me to truly live. You are perfection, beloved. And you shine so brightly." He kissed Russ and squeezed him tightly before focusing out the window again. "We should probably make sure there's wood for the fire in our room soon. And maybe check that the horses have found their way inside? That looks… serious. Look how high the cloud towers are! And how fast they're moving..."

Maedhros looked up at the storm. "You're right. Work first, and then play, my father always said." He grinned at Fingon, and sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind his ear. "You are so beautiful. You make my heart light, Findekáno: you make me brave and happy. And you _unmake_ me, you take down the masks that I must wear around other people. I am never so natural and plain when I am with you, for I am confident in nothing if not in your love." He cupped his cheek and kissed him again before sitting up. "Ah, all right. Firewood, horses. I'll put a stew on for this evening. And--" he shrugged. "We could clean up, but it might not be worth it."

"It's our home," Fingon whispered. "Let's clean tomorrow. Tonight, with the wind and the rain and the power of the storm I just want to relax, to be in your arms, to love you and have you love me. I am yours, vennonya, as you are mine. And I would celebrate that with you again and again this evening, but joining and by being in your arms and by marking a blanket fort and laughing and hugging and kissing, by talking and singing and listening to your heart beat steady and sure." He grinned. "Love you. Ah, I don't want to leave your arms. But yes, we should get ready and then… then I'd like to be in your arms." He sighed, half sat up and then fell back onto Russ' chest. "But I don't want to leave."

Maedhros laughed and stood. "Fine! We will waddle about, and our tasks will be finished slowly, but we will manage." He laughed and locked his fingers together around behind Fingon. "The horses will understand. The firewood we can carry in in our teeth," he teased.

"Eh… that part doesn't sound fun," Fingon admitted. "Wood first, before the rain starts. Then we can work on dinner. Shall we?" He stepped on Russ' feet and held him close. "You can guide us."

Maedhros laughed. "I remember carrying you like this when you were little. Now I feel young again, too." He kissed his brow and walked them out to the front door, where he thought he had seen a wood pile.

Fingon looked behind himself as they stopped, and sighed. With a final kiss he stepped away, loading up his arms with wood. "It's getting chilly out." He danced lightly from foot to foot, arranging the wood carefully so that it didn't scratch or threaten anywhere delicate.

"It is, sorry. We should have gotten dressed." He loaded his hands up with wood and they went inside. They retrieved robes and boots before setting out after the horses. The wind was cold.

"You'd think they'd want to come in," Fingon murmured as they took turns calling out to their mares and the packhorse. "Can't you see a storm's coming? Come on!" Finally they heard a whinny and saw movement up ahead.

Maedhros grabbed his mare's mane, bringing her inside. The foyer was large and open but protected, and they would be comfortable in here. He drew water for them while Fingon brought a bale of hay. "There, all right. All right?" He pet their manes, all three of them.

Fingon scratched his mare’s head as she moved toward her rider and the hay. “Take care, you. I don’t want to hear about any misadventures, alright?” He whispered to her softly, patting her neck and shoulder and leaning against her for a minute before moving back to Russ for a lingering kiss. “Ah… food next?”

"Sure! It won't take long to put the soup on. And then we can watch the storm roll in, and bundle up to go dance in the rain." He smiled as he began to chop vegetables.

“Is there anything you’d like me to do?” Fingon sat on the edge of the counter, kicking his legs. “You are fast at preparing food--impressively so. And every carrot is the exact same size--I bet if I measured them they would be down to the millimeter!”

"Just be here with me," Maedhros grinned, leaning in for a kiss. "And, here, you can stir that pot," he said, pouring oil into a large pot full of onions and other vegetables that were best sautéed. "It's my creamy vegetable soup. You still like that one? Oh, you could find that bottle of wine we didn't finish, if you wanted."

"Mhmm. You have the best plans!" Fingon smiled at him. "And the best food. Remind me and I'll grab the bottle out as you finish up so that it can start coming to room temperature." He accepted another kiss and graciously opted not to comment on the onions, far too many in his opinion, making their way into dinner.

"They're chopped very small," Maedhros said, "and some of that is garlic. And it makes the mushrooms taste wonderful. Go ahead and take the wine out now? I'll want to cook with it." He looked pleadingly at Fingon, hoping he supposed to start over.

"Of course." Fingon hopped down lightly, pausing as he passed Maedhros to slide his arms about his husband's waist and kiss the back of his neck. "I love you," he whispered, and stepped lightly to the cold cupboard to pull out the wine. Returning it to his husband he set the wine on the counter, checked that Maedhros did not have a knife in hand, and wrapped his arms around him again. He began to trail kissing down his neck and shoulder, sighing in contentment.

"Mm, Finno," Maedhros sighed, leaning back. "Love you." He stirred the cooking vegetables and started a smaller pan with beef into which he poured a splash of wine.

"That smells amazing," Fingon murmured. He hummed lightly, fingers playing along Maedhros' ribs until his husband stopped him. "Do you want me to start cleaning lettuces for a salad later? Or I can just stay right here." He nipped at Maedhros and his fingers dipped lower, skirting into dangerous territory along his front.

"I was just thinking of soup, but if you want a salad you could," Maedhros said. "You are keeping me warm and comfortable just there," he giggled.

"I know what will keep you even warmer," Fingon whispered. He brushed against his husband's rear, hands cupping his front. He raised a small bruise on Maedhros' neck. "But I want to make a salad for us--as you so often tell the Ambarussa, some green food with meals is a big thing. And a sprig of parsley in our soup doesn't count!" He grinned and laughed and hugged Maedhros' tightly before moving away and setting up a work space on the counter within arms reach of his cousin.

"Oh, Findekáno you wretched tease," Maedhros grinned, moaning as Fingon moved away. "Anyway there will be plenty of veg in the soup! Who do you think I am?" He gestured to the chopped celery, potatoes, squashes, peppers, tomatoes, carrots, mushrooms, and sundry he was to put into the pot.

"Maybe I want some crunchy veg, too!" Fingon leaned over to grab a slice of pepper before it made its way into the pot. "Delicious!" He danced away from his husband, grabbing another pepper, tomatoes, cucumber, and nuts to join his the lettuces and spinach in a large salad. "And venno, arimeldanya?" He paused until Maedhros glanced over at him. "Am I still a tease if I have every intention on following through?"

Maedhros  laughed out loud. "No, I suppose not. I rescind the statement. And if you put some cheese in that salad I'll allow it, too." He winked as he tossed Fingon a gorgonzola.

"As you wish, darling. I'll crumble some in a smaller bowl, and we can add the cheese, nuts, and dressing right before we eat." He finished his preparations and draped a cloth over the bowls to cover them. "How is the soup? I can already smell it." Fingon moved back over to stand by his husband, one arm winding about him. "Thank you for cooking for us, Russ. You're the best." He stole a carrot that had not yet been sliced, biting into it happily.

"Thank you for the salad, my loved one," Maedhros said. "Will you pour me a small glass of wine? I'm almost ready to leave the stew alone while we dance."

Fingon grabbed his husband's hand and kissed it gently before moving to pour two glasses of wine. "That sounds wonderful. Though now that I think about it, are you sure you want to get our clothes wet while we dance? If you don't want to we could just do our best to keep each other warm…"

Maedhros quirked an eyebrow at Fingon. "You're right. It wouldn't do to ruin our clothes in a fit of rain madness." He laughed and clinked their glasses together. "To our first rainstorm together."

Grinning, Fingon drank to the rainstorm and company before he began slipping out of his clothes. "Well? Are you coming?" He laughed, shaking his head. "Sorry, poor choice of words."

Maedhros snorted. "Or apt, if forward of you." He grinned and threw off his clothes, leaving them all around the house.

Fingon led them to a balcony and had to heave the door open against the wind. "Can you feel it Russ?" He raised his voice until he was shouting to be heard above the wind and the rain. "Not the rain- it's… the heart of the storm. Here. With us. I want to dance it with you!" They couldn't sing, and certainly wouldn't hear each other humming, but with their bond, strong and powerful wherever they were, he could pull Maedhros into his arms, or place himself in his husband's, and begin to sway and then twirl as rain quickly drenched their hair and hröar.

Even soaked, their hair whipped around them as they laughed and danced--really frolicked in the shower. And though they were moving they grew cold quickly, and one they were huddled miserably together they ran back inside, laughing and wringing out their hair while the horses nickered at them for being so obnoxious. Just for that, Maedhros kissed Fingon loudly.

Fingon was flushed and panting as they broke away, smiling so widely it hurt. "I love you!" Then he was racing away from his husband, sliding on the floor (Russ would insist on cleaning all of this later, but for now he just wanted to laugh and run and play and love) as he chose a meandering route through the house toward their bedroom.

"Findekáno!" Maedhros mock-scolded as he chased him through the house,  making a slight detour to snatch up the largest towels they owned, drying his own hair as he sped after him. "You shall be cleaning the floors after this, venno!" He shouted.

"Careful darling-- as you stated earlier, you haven't finished yet. Are you sure you want to be yelling at me?" Fingon laughed as he called back to Maedhros, carefully avoiding the rugs in their room as he danced his way into the shower. He grinned, turning the water up to steaming and relaxing into the heat. He took himself in hand, eyeing the doorway as he waited for his husband.

"Findekáno, you little--oh," he said as he rounded the corner. A hungry grin spread over his face. "You--mm, mind if I join you?"

"Well…" Fingon released himself, reaching up to push his hair back behind his head, lounging in the spray. "It's wet in here. You know…" He leaned forward, adding in a whisper, "messy." Fingon winked. "It will be in a few minutes, at least. Are you sure you want to be a part of that?" Against his words, he was beckoning Maedhros forward, offering his husband a hand as hröa and fëa reached out for him.

"You could not send me away," Maedhros purred, stepping under the spray and leaving the towels on the floor as he took Fingon in his arms and in a kiss.

"I wouldn't want to. I wish to be with you as much as I can." Fingon wrapped his arms around his husband and pressed Maedhros back so that he could stand directly under the spray. Then, as he began turning knobs out of curiosity, a second shower came on front he other side, dousing both of them with warm water. He laughed, standing on his toes and leaning in for a kiss. "I like this. I think I like it a lot. Later, when we aren't, ah, doing anything, we really should come up with a way to thank your--our-- father."

Maedhros nodded, though he was hardly thinking of his father as the warm spray massaged them and he held Fingon's perfect flesh against his. "Mm-hm--" he said, pressing kisses across his neck.

"Russ," Fingon whispered, shivering. "Venno. You undo me. Will you… will you touch me? Again?" Should I feel bad about this, he wondered distractedly. I'm… I can barely think for wanting you. And we haven't gone more than a few hours without… but during our honeymoon I just want to… to be one with you. To join with you as often as we can, while still doing other things that we want to--exploring or climbing the peak in our valley, reading a bit, sketching… His thoughts drifted off as he wrapped himself around his husband, one leg about his waist and his weight half supported by Maedhros.

Me, too, Maedhros whispered across their bond. Always. I love you. Love you so. Need you, every possible way, every possible second. Mine, as I am yours. For a while they were lost in just touching and kissing, like they didn't know or didn't care to go further.

"Vennonya," Fingon whispered gratefully. I love thee. Mine, as I am yours. His hands caressed Maedhros' hips and sides comfortingly, happily, before sliding up his back. "Do you want to try another button, see what else the shower can do?"

Maedhros licked his lips. "I have buttons enough here to keep me occupied," he said, dropping his head to lick at a tempting nipple, and he grunted, and planted a knee between Fingon's legs. pressing him against a far wall.

"A-aaah! Oh! That's… those are good buttons." Fingon bent down, kissing the top of his husband's head and grinding against him. He wondered if Maedhros knew how much he effected him, and he hoped that he effected Russ as greatly. Tyë melin. This is wonderful, beloved.

Love you, Maedhros told him, gasping, biting gently. This is all you, doing things to me, he assured him. I have no control over any of this. To prove it, he pressed Fingon against the wall with more pressure, as if he was trying to crawl through his body.

Fingon moaned, arms wrapping around Russ' neck as he lifted his other leg to wrap around his husband's waist as well.  Then he was squeezing more tightly as a cascade of warm water suddenly poured out from over him. "Russandol!" He half shrieked the name, twisting his head out of the cascade of water and blinking up at it in delight. "That's _perfect_!"

Maedhros gasped, and breathed open-mouthed, partially because he wasn't getting enough air the usual way, and partially to keep the water rushing down over the top of his head from going into his lungs. "Finno," he moaned, fingers probing at his entrance that had spent a long time just rubbing the globes of his backside. Not half as perfect as you. He was hard as a rock, and the wonder of the waterfall shower was doing nothing to distract him.

Yes, Fingon thought, that. Please. I want you inside of me. He straightened, head falling back into the spray and blinked at his husband with watery eyes. "There's soap, ah- just over there. Do you think it's enough? Can we just… please?" He clutched his husband and laughed at the thought that, surrounded by a valley full of waterfalls and rain, they were inside under a shower waterfall. And it was just as glorious.

"You're nice and stretched for me already, aren't you?" Maedhros growled, testing him with water alone, but he did slick his fingers with soap for a second run with more fingers: hurried, urgent. "Love you. Not hurting you, am I? Just need you," he gasped.

“Never hurt me,” Fingon gasped, shaking his head. I know you’d never hurt me. He grabbed at Russ’ hand, pulling it away. “Come on, melda. I want you in me. I’m ready. Please?”

Maedhros nodded, panting as he slicked himself with soap that mostly immediately washed away before pressing inside and then holding them still, gasping, groaning, until they were used to each others' bodies. "Oh, Finno, Finno, Fin oh," he whispered, resting their brows together. "Love you. Love you."

“Inyë tyë-mela,” Fingon murmured, hands tangling in his husband’s hair as he dragged him in for a kiss. “My one, my only, my everything.” His back slid against the wall as they began to move, turning the waterfall on and off and suddenly starting a series of jets built into the side of the wall. “Oh, Valar, Russ!”

It was over quickly, all things considered, amidst a chaos of spraying water, panting breaths and moving bodies. They gave no heed for the other unless this was all they cared for and rutted against each other with abandon, finishing close together unplanned. Maedhros groaned, still holding Fin against the wall until his cock went slack and his knees grew weak. They went back to lethargically kissing each other.

“So strong,” Fingon murmured appreciatively. I love that. He lazily kissed Russ again. “Warm yet?” He asked, fingers carefully working to untangle his husband’s hair. “We could stay here or…  well, I suppose if you wanted we could get in the bath. Or I can wipe up the floor and we can work on getting the fire going and building a ‘fort’ in our room.” He shrugged. “Anything my husband desires.”

Maedhros shrugged breathlessly. "Any of the above? As long as I have you in my arms I'm not especially fussed. I wouldn't even mind watching you scrub the floor on your hands and knees," he growled playfully.

Fingon blushed slightly as he imagined that… and more. “Well, you have your apron, but I don’t have special cleaning clothes. Make me something special for that and perhaps we can… ah… indulge that fantasy.” His breath hitched lightly as he shared his ideas… which devolved into mental laughter as he reached the foyer while cleaning and he and Russ ran into three unsuspecting, innocent horses.

"Oh, hush, all of you. No telling the other horses, or we'll eat you!" Maedhros threatened them playfully, grumpy at being torn out of his fantasy. "We'll have to have you in that tiny apron--the smaller half-apron," he purred hot in his ear. "But I want to dry you off first. Come along," he said, pulling him into the kitchen where it was warm, and he sat him down and dried his hair and body, all the way down, his hand "slipping" to dry areas that really didn't need that much attention along the way.

“Never change,” Fingon whispered, petting Maedhros gently and leaning up to kiss him. “Shall we put a little tea on to go with dinner? I think we've almost finished the wine. Or we can venture down to the cellar and pick out a new bottle to try?”

"I should like to stick with tea," Maedhros said. "Or water. It's rather cool, and I'm drunk already on you," he grinned and kissed Fingon, pulling him close. "But that soup is going to be good by now."

"Soup then. Ah, after a quick trip back to our room--I'm a little chilled." Fingon grinned at his husband. "Besides, I want to give you another opportunity to unclothe me later."

"You are too kind, my love," Maedhros said, sweeping Fin off his feet and carrying him to the master bedroom where they dressed hurriedly and lit a fire in the fireplace before scurrying out, fully dressed, into the warm kitchen. "We could eat at the small table in here." Maedhros pointed out a small round breakfast table by the window, where in the last light of the trees they could see the rain falling in a curtain.

"I like the sound of that." Fingon moved to the window, almost kissing the glass as he tried to peer out. "You can't even see the waterfall! This is madness, Russ!" As great an adventure it would to camp through this, I'm rather glad to be sitting it out in our house and in your arms. Fingon stepped back, walking to the cold cupboard to retrieve their salads and set out silverware. "What dressing would you like for the salad? We have... Any kind of balsamic and lots of oils. I can see if there's something else tucked away..."

Maedhros agreed: it was a beautiful storm to look at, but their dance in the rain was his preferred limit. "I'll have whatever you're having," he said, letting Fingon dress his salad for him while he ladled out bowls of soup.

Fingon added the cheese along with nuts, oil, and a raspberry balsamic. By the time he had set everything out the kettle was boiling and he finished preparing hot tea for both of them. Then he wandered over to stand next to his cousin. "The soup smells amazing. Are you just about ready or shall we start with the salads?"

"All ready. We can enjoy both at the same time," he beamed and kissed Fingon's cheek, carrying their bowls to the table. "Well, as usual I made an overabundance of soup. Remind me that I am cooking for two for the rest of my life," he laughed.

"No-- I'm sure we'll have brothers and sisters and little cousins here before long! I don't really think they'll stay away, though I'm glad they've given us time to enjoy our bonding." Fingon grinned, imagining horse races through the valley with their brothers, exploring with Finderato, free climbing, and perhaps, for old times sake, tree climbing with Ambarussa. "Though I warn you- you're cooking is entirely too delicious so I fear when we are alone if you keep feeding me like this I'll just keep eating and eating." He laughed and raised his mug to salute Maedhros before taking his first sip. "To new beginnings and old friends, exciting storms and big beds to cuddle up in during them."

Maedhros laughed. "I would like to make you fat!" he said, reaching across the table to pinch his cheek. "You would be even cuter, I think."

Fingon blushed and ducked his head slightly. “Ruuuss! I’m trying to be all grown up and husband-y. Not cute!” He liked Maedhros calling him that, though. And he felt a tingle in the base of his spine as his husband spoke. “Well, I guess… I’m not sure about fat but you can feed me until I can’t move one night, if you want. For now though… salad and soup!” He lifted his fork and speared a large bite of salad.

Maedhros huffed, mock-disappointed. "Well, all right. And you'll always be cute, I'm afraid. Even if your body is 'grown up'--and handsomely, at that, your face is--" he leaned forward, caressing his cheeks as he observed him closely, "round, heart-shaped even, and angelic, just like it was when I first met you, and your eyes are large and shining, their lashes dark and long, and your brow unwrinkled, and your lips are full and red, and your smile makes me melt inside. No matter how much you grow, you will always be cute to me." He leaned in further and stole a kiss.

“Mmm. I can live with that.” And with being your boy. And I’ll always see you as giant and impossibly strong, even if you’re not quite so much taller anymore. He smiled and blinked at his husband, borrowing his perspective for an instant and seeing a flash of himself, dark lashes and wavy hair, looking up at Russ with a grin. His lips were slightly swollen from their kisses. “Tyë melin,” he murmured lowly. “We should eat.”

Maedhros matched his blush, and pulled back. "Yes, all right," he laughed. "Sorry I keep interrupting." He speared a bite of salad and ate quickly. "A wonderful salad, Fin, thank you!" he said happily munching, occasionally sipping his soup, which was still too hot but which he didn't want to let get too cold.

“I think I’m just as bad as far as interruptions go.” Fingon shrugged a shoulder, following Maedhros’ lead and eating quickly. “I enjoy them- we’re not in a hurry. And we can enjoy cooking and reading, walking, riding, eating… playing.” He shrugged again, the corners of his mouth turning up. “Thank you for giving me a week of smiles and laughter, ‘exercising’ and relaxing.” He placed his free hand over Russ’ on the table, linking their fingers together.

Maedhros grinned, which was hard with his mouth full, and squeezed Fin's hand. "Thank you, for the same," he said, finally digging into his soup in earnest.

“This is _wonderful_ ,” Fingon moaned when he set the salad plate aside and took his first spoonful of soup. It was rich, thick, and very flavorful. “This is the perfect meal for a rainy evening. Just eating it makes me feel warm from the inside out!”

Maedhros dipped his head. "Thank you, I'm glad you like it. The meat is a bit firmer than I would like but," he shrugged. It was still tender, and he was a perfectionist. "If it doesn't happen to warm you up entirely, I offer myself to help," he said.

“Now you’re making me hope it doesn’t warm me up enough,” Fingon teased. “Alright, tell me truly- what shall we do first once I’ve washed up? Fort building or grabbing a few books from the library to take up with us? So we could sketch or write… or something else?”

"Hmm, what would we write?" Maedhros asked, scraping the bottom of his bowl. He was, though his wouldn't admit it out loud, physically tired (though no wonder, really!), so something sedate like reading or writing in bed sounded lovely. "If we did get into bed right away?"

“We could write about our adventures, or work on new maps of the areas we could see from the height of the peak at the side of Our Valley. Or we could come up with a new story, an adventure of some sort, or a fantastic tale. I suppose Irissë’s book is inspiring me a bit.” He grinned, finishing the last few bites of soup. “Shall we write something, then? Perhaps we can come up with ideas while we’re curled up by the fire.”

"Yes," Maedhros admitted in a moment of love-inspired sickly-sweet weakness. "A love story," he blurted out, and blushed, but it was too late. He had to grin. "About two Eldar--both neri."

Fingon nodded quickly, his own cheeks flushing. “Perfect-- that’s what we’ll write. A love story about neri. One who is tall and strong and brave, with hair like fire spun into golden thread, and one with wild dark hair who’s quick to laugh.”

"Now that's a story I'd like to be in," Maedhros joked, taking the dishes to the sink and putting away the leftover soup.

“Aren’t you?” Fingon asked with a laugh. He moved to the sink to begin washing the plates and bowls.

Maedhros stuck his tongue out at Fingon and waited until he was elbow deep in dishwashing to grab his belly and tickle him.

“A-a-aah! Ack! Russandol!” Fingon yelped, squirming under his husband’s clever fingers. “What are you doing?” He wiggled and laughed, trying to escape Maedhros’ clutches while keeping his soapy hands over the sink.

Maedhros quickly had mercy on him, stopping the tickling but continuing to hold him, and began kissing the back of his neck. "Mm, I like you wet," he said. Drops glistening on your skin, making you sparkle and shine like one of the Valar. I like seeing your hair wet and slick, too.

“A-oh!” Fingon sighed, stilling under his husband’s touches. “I only-- ah!-- reflect your beauty, arimeldanya. Though I hardly think I’m that good a mirror when I’m covered in cleaning suds.” He grinned, pressing back against Maedhros. “Thank you. That feels… bliss inducing. Have I told you how much I love you today?”

"Not enough. Nor have I told you how much I love you," Maedhros answered. "Because I do love you, so very much. My star, my night, my day. My boy, my husband, my playmate, my dancer, my slippery minnow." He chuckled and shook his head at his own poetry. "The eater of my food and the cleaner of my dishes."

“Our dishes,” Fingon said lightly, flicking soap bubbles at his husband. “Though I daren’t lay claim to the food.” He grinned. “And you… you are my light, my jewel, my hero and best friend.” He laughed and grinned. “My guide, too. Remember how you would take me exploring out behind grandfather’s house when we were little?”

"Oh, I like that. Our dishes. Or your dishes, since you clean them. I must ask for permission to use them. And without you them, the food I cook cannot be. A wonderful picture of us." He grinned and pressed their cheeks together. "I will never forget exploring with you. Not when I had such fun. You liked the brook close to his house. You always wanted to play in it, and I was always trying to keep you from getting your clothes wet and your mother upset. I was afraid you were going to swim away from me!" He laughed. "Always so adventurous.”

“And you were always there to protect me. You would be next to me in the stream or running through the fields. Remember when I was really small and you would hold me over your head and spin me about to fly and then dance?” He elbowed Maedhros as he dried the final fork. “And then it took until our impromptu betrothal party for you to dance with me again. I like dancing with you now- even out in the rain under a stormy sky.”

"I like dancing with you, too," Maedhros answered. "But you must admit I'm not a very good dancer. And I was concerned about protecting our secrecy--once you were order and we--well anyway I shall dance with you every day now if you desire it. "

“I’d never admit it-- sometimes you refuse to do more than shuffle your feet a little, but when you do dance… you’re elegant, darling. You look like one of the Ainur, like a being of spirit that is wearing a hröa but is barely contained by it. And you make me feel like the most precious thing in the world.” He pulled his husband along with him as he put the dishes away. “Done! Now on to… the library for paper and pens?”

"Yes!" Maedhros said, taking his hand and practically skipping along. He snatched up a notebook and a few pens and pencils, and a few map books and storybooks in case they got bored. "Is this all right?" he asked.

“Perfect. And Irissë’s book is already in our room in case we need inspiration.” Fingon paused and gave Maedhros a slow look up and down his frame. “Or we could find some other way to inspire each other.” He grabbed his husband’s free hand and began tugging him to the stairs going toward their room.

"I think we'll be fine on our own," Maedhros said, following Fingon to their bedroom. He piled more wood on the fire so that it burned bright and hot, and dropped his clothes as he slid into bed with the books and pens.

Fingon grinned as he began setting up their ‘den’ area as well. Their closet was filled with extra blankets, comforters and pillows, and a quick raid led to a warm, down-covered floor space just in front of the fire. “In case we need to get even warmer,” he told Maedhros with a cheeky grin as he bounced onto the bed and rolled up to lie next to his husband. And later I want to have you on our bedroom floor in a fluffy bed of down and the softest fabrics as we lie in front of the fire.

"It's perfect!" Maedhros exclaimed as they curled against each other. He opened the book and immediately began drawing Fingon as he lay beside him, skin shining. He stopped as he reached Fingon's legs, setting the drawing aside. "Are you warm enough, love?"

Fingon started to say he was, but shut his mouth on the assurance, remembering their dinner conversation. He swallowed. “I could be warmer. Will you help warm me up, vennonya, and keep me safe and well heated?”

Maedhros grinned, sliding against him and over him, and kissing him gently. "I love you. Warm enough now?" he whispered.

“Mhmmm. Russandol--again. Kiss me again, please?” He wrapped his arms about his husband and, for several minutes, they ignored the writing supplies and the art materials and the happy crackling of the fire. “This--this is all I need. To stay warm. To be happy. To live. Just this. Just you.”

"Me, too," Maedhros said, pressing their noses together, sharing their breath. "I will kiss you as long as you want me to. While I kiss you, will you tell me what you want our story to be about?"

“Can it be about something special? Two neri who fall in love… perhaps with a bit of adventure?” Thunder cracked overhead, and the sound could be heard even over the sound of the fire where they were tucked away in their room. “A storm! They could meet because of a storm!” He grinned at his husband leaning forward a half-inch to press their lisp together before returning to touching their noses. “If my husband likes the idea--truly if you wished to write a treatise on alternative consonant clusters that could be added to an offshoot of Quenya designed to emulate… I don’t know, wind sounds in the canyon in the south that we visited a couple of times, I’d happily write that with you.”

Maedhros laughed. "Oh, no. I'd much prefer a storm. 'It was a dark and stormy night' or something." He laughed again. "One could be caught on a ship in the storm, out in the sea, and the other rescues him. Maybe he's a stronger swimmer? Or he gets knocked unconscious by falling debris."

“Only one on a ship? If the red haired adventurer is trying out one of his father’s latest creations- an impressive new ship, perhaps the wild, dark haired one can be doing something else entirely. Swimming--or riding the storm. Hmmm,” Fingon tangled his fingers in his husband’s hair, pulling back to look at him. “Arimeldanya, if I had a fin instead of legs- if I were a merelda--and we met when I saved you from drowning--do you think you could fall in love with me?”

Maedhros' eyes widened, his pupils dilating. "Why wouldn't I?" He touched Fingon's legs gently. "You know I could." He grinned up at him. "You would have a beautiful tail. Oh, like a mermaid. A merelda!"

Fingon nodded excitedly. "An adventurous one-- I could be out riding the waves and enjoying the craziness of the storm when I see you fall- you're probably injured saving the ship and are unable to swim. And perhaps you're bleeding, so I can't just grab you and follow the ship--instead I take you to land. Help to nurse you and heal you." He blushed. "Or should we switch places? You're normally the one who takes care of me. Of all of us. And you're very good at it."

"I could be injured just being on the ship. I know nothing about boats," Maedhros laughed. "And I like your plan. The role reversal would be fun. Though you always take very good care of me," he added, catching Fingon's hand.

Fingon felt light enough to start floating as he curled against his husband's side. "Thank you. I love you," he murmured. "Alright." Fingon offered him a pleased grin. "My character can rescue yours and pull him to shore. He'll probably be fascinated by your legs and feet." Fingon reached down to tickle the feet and legs in question.

Maedhros giggled and curled his feet under him. "Hey, stop that! You know I don't like being tickled," he hurumphed playfully. "Yes, I suppose he would. As much as I would be interested in your tail," he said, picking up his earlier drawing and adding in a long, powerful, beautiful tail.

“That’s gorgeous. I think my merelda will greatly appreciate it.” He eyed the drawing happily. “What about your character? Will he know mereldar exist? Would he be frightened if he wakes up in the merelda’s care?” Fingon squirmed closer until he was half tucked under his husband to keep warm, toes hiding under Maedhros’ calf.”

Maedhros frowned. "He might be. But only a bit, for a bit. If he's injured he might be frightened and hurting. Findekáno might have to--well, unless we want to call him something different--I don't know, talk him down." He pulled Fingon into his lap and set the notebook on top of him as he continued to doodle and make notes.

Fingon nodded thoughtfully. "He'll probably be a little nervous as well, but he'll find himself quickly growing to care for the ner. Hmm, and they can have all diets of adventures together! And fresh fish any time they want it-- a merelda will surely be good at fishing- even better than the Teleri!" Excited and wanting to move Fingon couldn't bring himself to leave Maedhros' warmth. Instead he shifted until he lay on his cousin, hair flying as he grinned and bobbed his head.

Maedhros laughed. "Stop squirming or I can't write it down!" he giggled, jotting down notes. "Yes, and the land-Elda will have to cook for him. Do you suppose the mereldar eat their fish raw?" He turned up his nose.

"Yes!" Fingon giggled at his husband's expression. "Aren't you the one normally trying to convince the rest if us to try new foods? They're considered a delicacy among the Teleri. Well, some of them are." Fingon relaxed his head on Maedhros' chest, eyes closing as he smiled. "We'd have them sometimes- Tutukano and Irissë and I- when mother would take us with her on a visit to Alqualondë." He hugged Maedhros. "Perhaps it's a good idea to have me play the merelda." He winked. "And try to convince me land bound friend to have his fish rare."

Maedhros laughed. "I suppose you're right." He wrapped his arms around Fingon, setting the notebook aside and kissing him. "I like this story. Will they have any adventures? How will they be able to be together in the end?"

"If course they will! And... The Noldor could help design a tank of some sort to let mereldar travel inland. And they could build a house by the sea, or on a river that leads to the sea. Or with a giant slide with water flowing down it that leads to a stream or river!" He was tracing vague images and notes onto Maedhros' shoulder with a finger. "What sort of adventures should they go on together?"

"They might take each other to visit their homes. I don't know how our poor land creature will hold his breath. Maybe they can just go for a swim? Would the valar grant the boons that they might live together sometimes? Give the elda gills or something? Or the merelda legs?" he continued to scribble notes and drawings.

"I think if they could only have one, I would rather your character be given gills," Fingon said slowly. "Presuming the merelda could breathe on land. His traveling on land would surely be possible in your arms and with our people's crafting skill. But I cannot think of another way for the Elda to visit the places our merelda has spent his life exploring." He shrugged. "But if that happened it would be a ways off. At first I imagine it will just be the two of then. Well, and perhaps an orca or shark who threatens to attack!"

"Oh, that would be really scary!" Maedhros said, drawing an ominous-looking fin in the water. "Maybe they don't need the Valar. I mean, I'm sure father--er, the Elda's father, if he put his mind to it, could make some sort of breathing aparatus for the to breathe underwater. Unless we want the pair to be fated by the Valar."

“An apparatus then. They can make their own fate. Besides,” Fingon added, raising his head for a small kiss, “we can celebrate the amazing works the Noldor can achieve if we have atar help them swim together. Swim together-- I like that. Now I think I rather want to swim in our bath with you later. Perhaps in the morning?”

Maedhros grinned. "Perhaps in the morning. Swim together," he mused: "I like that, too."

Fingon nuzzled against him. "Do we start writing just before we go to sleep, or do you want to keep brainstorming? Be right back." He pulled away from Maedhros with a small shiver when his feet touched the floor and added another log to the fire. He poked it until the embers and logs were piled nicely again and turned to face his husband, standing still for a minute as waves of heat warmed his back and legs.

"What will the merelda think of fire when he first sees it?" Maedhros mused, glad to keep talking like this as he pulled Fingon back into their fort and scratched his back.

"Hmm-- oh! That's perfect. Just like that, please. He'll ah, probably be more comfortable around water. He may even. He scared of it, and he certainly won't be used to controlling it. On fact, if he's out in the storm for fun I bet he doesn't get cold easily or often. Do you think the Elda will teach him to cook?"

"He might try," Maedhros answered. "I don't know why he would find it at all worth his while if he eats raw fish. He might teach him other things, like bow hunting, or something." Maedhros shrugged, continuing to rub Fingon's back, hands wandering ever lower. "You like that?"

Fingon's eyes widened. "Mm! Mhmm. V-very much so." He grinned. "You could even go... Lower?"

"Oh! Ah! There... Just there. Valar, Vennonya-- how can my hröa be yearning for you already? Are you... May I touch you as well?"

"Please," Maedhros said, shifting for easier access, hand buried between Fingon's legs. "You're beautiful. You feel wonderful." He probed gently at his entrance. "Still soft from before. But--but would you--would you have me?" he asked.

"Oh!" Fingon gasped again, turning to catch his husband's lips in an eager kiss. "Please," he moaned, lowly. "Please. I'm… I'm ready. I want to be buried inside of you again. Want to be so deep in you that we forget where I end and you begin. Want to paint you with my seed and lick it off of you. And I want to spend inside you." He nuzzled against Maedhros' slowly, hands reaching to play along his husband's sides. "Would you hold it inside of you all night for me, arimelda? So that when we woke in the morning I could hold you open and lick out my seed? Or perhaps I would just have you again, before we were completely awake, even. Because you'd be soft and open and so _wet_ from me-- for us."

Maedhros felt desire curling up inside him, and he groaned as his mouth fell open. "Mm, yes, yes, Finno, please. Please make me yours? Just like that?" His eyes blown wide with lust, he leaned in for a kiss. But just before their lips touched a loud ring accosted them.

Fingon slumped, head landing on his husband's shoulder. No, no, no, no, no. "It's our honeymoon. Who would… why would they?" But the storm was horrible and if someone had been trapped in it they would seek shelter here, and he and Maedhros would need to go and welcome them. "I suppose we should be relieved we cleaned earlier. Alright. Alright." His fingers tightened on Maedhros' sides for a brief second. "Promise me that later… later we can finish this? Please, beloved, my beloved husband? Promise me that eventually we'll make our way back here and… please?"

"We had better," Maedhros growled, kissing him deeply before scrambling to his feet, and hauling Fingon up after him. "Wait, that was a doorbell? Someone's--" He glowered. "If any of my brothers are here I'm going to kill them!" he said, marching up to the front door, grabbing his clothes on the way.

“Perverts. So help me, if it’s Turukáno and Irissë…” Fingon sighed and fell back for a minute before quickly following Maedhros. “Well, I’ll give them a long talking to and I’ll refuse to give them any of your soup! Do you think it’s them? Or someone in the family? But why would they be traveling in this?”

"I don't know," Maedhros growled, flinging wide the door, ready to shout at the top of his lungs at whoever was--not--there?

He had only a moment to wonder at this before he was attacked from below, as a tiny body clung to his leg. "Ambarussa?!" he cried. He dropped to his knees, trying to determine which twin he had: "Pityo? Pityo, what are you doing out in this? Where's Telyo?" he demanded, shaking him. His little brother pointed, and now Maedhros saw it: the Ambarussa's pony, huddled miserably, with another figure still on top of it. "Fin, take him," Maedhros said, passing his brother off to Fingon before stepping out into the storm.


	14. Chapter 14

Fingon shrugged out of his shirt and scooped his brother up, wrapping his soaking frame tightly. “Hey, you! We weren’t expecting you. What has you so far from home? Not that you aren’t always welcome here. Have you seen the house before? It’s huge--Russ and I haven’t even seen the whole thing yet! Do you want to help us explore tomorrow?” He kept up a constant and, he hoped, calming stream of speech as he rubbed the child’s back in an attempt to warm his shaking frame. Pityo said nothing, only nodded slightly and clung to Fingon with small, trembling hands.

The rain pounded painfully against the top of Maedhros' head as he scooped his brother off the pony and led the animal inside. "Telyo, what are you doing out here? Telyo, brother, my favorite brother, I've got you," he said, bringing him inside.

“’Russar, kiddos, what are you two doing here?” Fingon walked over, gently kissing the other twin's dripping hair. “You know what I think we need?” He looked at Maedhros. “Some towels and some shirts hung in front of the fire to warm that we can wrap you in. They’ll be very big for you, of course, but they’ll be soft and comfy for sleeping. How does that sound?” The last part was addressed to the boys. Pityo remained silent, but he squeezed Fingon tightly. Fingon took that as a sign of agreement.

Amras was hardly holding onto him, and he was frozen stiff. "Telyo, Telyo, Telyo," Maedhros murmured, flashing a worried look at Fingon and brushing Amrod with his hand. "We've got to get them warm and dry. Pityo, you want some soup?" he asked, taking them into their room where the fire burned bright and a pillow fort was already constructed. He picked up a stack of towels from the bathroom on his way, and turned on the hot water in case they needed a bath to warm up.

“Don’t worry,” Fingon added with a grin. “Maitimo made it, not me.” That earned him a small giggle. “Here-- right in front of the fire. That’s a good spot, right?” He cast a quick eye over the bed make sure the bindings and various unmentionables were out of sight. “Alright-- let’s see about getting your hair dry. Is the fire warm enough, or do you want another log? Pityo? Telyo?” They shook their heads in unison, the motion starting and stopping at exactly the same time. “Alright. Then we’ll just enjoy it. It is pretty warm, isn’t it?” When they weren’t looking he shot Maedhros a worried look. They were cold, and the storm was enough to make anyone miserable, but normally they would be chatting up a storm, especially after being away from Maedhros for days. 

" _Why_ were you out in that storm?" Maedhros lamented, not really expecting an answer. Even if they thought it was some sort of game initially, they had certainly learned their lesson by now. He pulled Amras gently out of his sopping clothes, tossing them near the fire, and helped Fingon with the button at the back of Amrod's neck. "Amil's going to be worried sick."

He was shocked when Amras shook his head, the first indication that he was conscious he had gotten all night.

"Telufinwë Ambarussa," he said firmly, "why don't you think amil will be worried? Did you do something you weren't supposed to and she scolded you?"

But this was too much for his little brother, and he shook his head and clammed up. Meanwhile, at this, Amrod burst into tears. "Oh, oh, Pityo, hush, it's all right, I didn't mean to shout," he said, deeply troubled. They never cry, not even to get out of trouble, he told Fingon, frowning as he helped shush the brother in Fingon's arms.

Fingon wrapped the towel securely around his brother in law and held him close, rocking him slightly. “Shh. Whatever it is, whatever happened, it’s alright, little brother. You’re my little brothers now, remember? And I promise that the four of us will talk it through and work something out. Maitimo can do anything, right? And neither he nor I want to see you so sad.” He turned Amrod in his arms and looked him in the eye. “We love you and we’ll take care of you. You don’t have to be sad or afraid. You two are alright, and your pony is wet and a bit irritated, but she’s fine as well. Do you trust me? Or, forget me, do you trust Maitimo?”

Amrod nodded and flung his arms around Fingon's neck, shivering as he tried to stop crying. Amras said and did nothing but curl into a tighter ball until it was difficult for Maedhros to get him properly dry. "You heard your big brother Finno," he said, kissing the damp hair. "We love you and we're going to look after you, all right? You're going to be all right. You want to stay with Finno while I go get something warm for us to drink? Or you want to come with me?" Amras gave no indication, but Amrod squeaked in displeasure. "Or we could all go? How about it, Fin?"

“I think we could do that. I’ll turn off the bath-- do you boys think you might like a warm bath in a little while? That water gets so hot it steams up the room.” He grinned and hoisted Amrod up as he stepped into the washroom to turn off the faucet. “There. Now… let’s get some food into you!” He grinned and lifted the child higher, above his head for a minute, spinning around. Then he grabbed a sleepshirt-- one of his, as the twins would truly be swimming in Maedhros’ clothing, and tugged it over Amrod’s head. “There we go. Now… soup and hot chocolate!”

They made their way to the kitchen, with Fingon and Maedhros carrying on the conversation. They told the boys about their amazing library and about climbing the peak beside their valley. Voice dropping to a loud whisper Fingon even told them that Maedhros had made his way up a tree.

Amrod seemed to be approaching his usual self, but Amras was still sullen and silent, like at any moment he expected to be scolded and was already beating himself up about it. "Hey, Telyo," he whispered, for his ears only: "I looooove you." He kissed him on the cheek as he put hot milk on one-handed. "A bit of warm milk and honey is just the ticket for you lot. You want cinnamon in it, too?" He adjusted his grip so he was holding Amras' icy feet wrapped in the towel, too. "I love you both," he added at Amrod, as he and Fingon drew together so they could both wrap their arms around both of them. "My brave boys."

“Love you too,” Amrod whispered in a wavering voice. Fingon looked down and realized his little brother was silently crying.

“And I love you all,” Fingon added quietly. “I love you very, very much and it hurts when you’re hurting. Do you think you can tell us about it after you eat?”

Amrod nodded forlornly, and even Amras gave a half-nod and a half-sob, which was better than the nothingness that was worrying Maedhros so much. He sat Amras on the counter by the stove, in Finno's usual spot, as he stirred and then poured out the milk into two small cups. "Let's go back by the fire, yeah?" he said, hurrying back down to their bedroom and for the first time hating all the stairs.

Fingon set Amrod on his shoulders for part of the trip back, tilting his head back to smile up at him. “You’re getting so big! Have you grown since the wedding? Already?” They settled on either side of the twins, and the Ambarussa linked hands with each other, drinking one handed as they enjoyed the warmth and their hair began to dry.

“You love us both, right?” Amrod whispered hesitantly. He set down his tea as he spoke, voice wavering and almost failing.

"Of course we love you both," Maedhros replied, curling around them. "Tell me what's gotten into you? Why did you leave home when it was so stormy? And Telyo, don't you want to talk to me? Come on, Ambarussa," he urged, kissing his cheek and helping him hold his warm milk--which was just as well, as Amras suddenly burst into tears, worried, frightened tears that were loud for all that he seemed to be holding them back in fear. "Oh! Oh, Russa, oh, Telyo, my babiest brother," he said, pulling him into a warm embrace. "What are you crying about, brother? Tell me so I can help you."

"Ata says he's not s'posed to be Ambarussa no more!" Amrod supplied, also beginning to cry. "And Ama called him Umbarto, and Ata got mad!"

Fingon’s eyes widened as he stared at Maedhros. His aunt and uncle always seemed so happy, though he assumed they fought like any couple did. Of course, if they’d finished arguing they were probably worried sick over two missing children and a missing pony. They would figure out they’d been overheard, but the storm would make his little brothers difficult to go after. “Well, you may be fated to climb trees and cause trouble, but that’s all, I should think. Hmm, will you be upset if I still call you two Ambarussa, or Pityo and Telyo?”

“No!” Amrod turned and clung to Fingon, wrapping a small arm around him as far as he could reach. Fingon carefully relieved him of his milk and set it on the ground. He reached an arm around both the Ambarussa, fingers reaching far enough to brush against his husband’s arm.

"Both Ambarussa! Both!" Amras sobbed, "P-puh-lease, you gotta tell, gotta t-tell, don' wanna be Barto, don' care!" and in his distress he reached across to cling to his twin, and Amrod clung back, like neither Maedhros nor Fingon mattered to them in the slightest.

"Oh, Ambarussa! My brothers Ambarussa: one Ambarussa, two Ambarussa, my favorite littlest brothers. Pityo, Telyo, come here," he said, folding around them. "You're all right. It's all right."

"Do Ama and Ata hate each other because of me?" Amras asked, in pain with worry.

"Certainly not! And certainly not because of you if they did! People fight sometimes, even when they love each other. Sometimes it's over silly reasons. You mustn't judge them too harshly. They didn't mean to upset you, and they'll surely be more worried about _you_ than about any name!" He hugged them tightly, wrapping his arms around them to reach and hold Fingon, too.

"Your brother's right, you know. Sometimes my mother and father argue too, but they love each other very much and they eventually sort things out. And I guarantee you they're both worried sick over you being out in the storm." Fingon wrapped his arms around them and Maedhros, boxing the boys in securely. "I love you, Ambarussa," he said with a kiss to Amrod's head, "and I love you, Ambarussa," he finished with a kiss to Amras' hair. "Oh, and I love you arimeldanya, my one and only." He offered Maedhros a chaste kiss on the lips. What do you think, Russandol? How can we help them? Is there something I can do?

The Ambarussa both giggled at seeing them kiss, and Maedhros held them tighter. I think we're going to be all right, he told Fingon, before beaming at his little brothers. "You think you are warmed up sufficiently?" he asked them, rubbing their arms and legs. "Would you like a warm bath? Fin and I were just going to get in ourselves."

"Bath, bath, bath!" Armod took up the chant, which his brother joined after a few repetitions. Grinning, Fingon took up the call as well.

I think I saw swim outfits in the adventuring and outdoor activities clothing trunk in our closet. They won't work for the twins, but I'll grab them for us once we get the Ambarussa in the water. Fingon looked over at Maedhros and stood, pulling Amrod up with him.

Thanks, Fin, he said, "I'll take the twins," he added out loud, scooping one into each arm and carrying them into the bathroom, where the whirlpool tub was half-filled with hot water that had by now cooled to a comfortable temperature. "This look fun?" he asked them. "I bet you helped everyone build this, huh?"

Amrod giggled and kicked, wanting to be let down. "We already got to play in it!"

A smile spread across Amras' face and he whispered in Maedhros' ear: "Pityo peed in your tub!" he accused.

"Did not!" Amrod said, hands on his hips.

Maedhros snorted. "That's okay," he laughed. "W already cleaned it."

Fingon ran through the room already dressed for swimming. He dropped Maedhros’ shorts on his head without breaking stride and launched himself into the air heading toward the deeper water at the center of the sunken bath. Curling into a ball before he hit the surface of the water his entrance doused Maedhros and the Ambarussa with the resulting splash. He shook his hair back as he came up for air, grinning at the Fëanoreans.

“Are you causing trouble?” Fingon looked at Amras first and then at Amrod. He turned to his husband. “Why am I even asking? Of course they’re causing trouble. Come on, you. I want to see someone swim to the other side. Ambarussa? Let’s see how good you’ve gotten in the water.”

"No more trouble than you," Maedhros grumped, undressing as best he could with only one hand, as Amras still clung to him. Amrod, however, splashed into the bath (with Fingon's shirt still on) and was paddling happily about to show Fingon.

"Hey," Maedhros whispered to his little brother, dropping his trousers and stepping into his swimming shorts. "Hey, don't you want to swim with Pityo?"

Amras shrugged.

"You want to swim with me?" he tried with a grin.

Amras shrugged again.

"Well, we can sit in the bath and watch them play, okay?"

Amras nodded, and Maedhros stepped into the bath, resting Amras on his lap, who turned his head to watch but kept his arm about Maedhros' middle as if he expected him to try to leave him.

“Do you think we should go check on your brothers?” Fingon whispered the question as he held Amrod. The child looked over and waved at them before nodding his head.

“I don’t want Ambarussa to be sad,” Amrod said quietly. Fingon hugged him and whispered a plan, winking at his conspirator.

They swam underwater up to Maedhros and Amras a minute later.  Amrod clung to Fingon’s back, arms around his neck. “Hey there!” Fingon popped his head up kissing Maedhros before planting a kiss on Amras’ cheek, and then moving back to kiss his husband again. “I love you. And you, and you,” he added, jostling his passenger. He held his passenger's legs and shook himself, twisting from side to side. Amrod squealed as he moved back and forth, water spraying off them. Then Fingon sank back down into the water’s warm embrace, shifting Amrod to his front. “How are my favorite neri doing?”

Amras laughed suddenly. "He's like a mer-Findekáno!" he cried and clapped his hands. Amrod was laughing, too, and holding on as if for dear life. "Finno, I want to be a mer-Ambarussa!" He said, letting go of Maedhros and splashing toward Fingon.

"Me too, me too!" Amrod cried, letting go of Fingon to join his twin, in a flurry of kicking and desperate paddling that was more splash than movement.

"Haha! Very good," Maedhros smiled and put his arm around Fingon, for the twins were in synch now.

Fingon leaned against his husband and found himself feeling better as well and more at peace as they watched the boys splashing around. "I love thee," he whispered, turning to press a kiss against Maedhros' jaw. I love thee. You make everything better-- just like I knew you would.

"You did that," Maedhros said, nodding at his splashing, screaming brothers, "mer-Finno," he added with a smile and a kiss. "Thank you. I love thee," he echoed.

Fingon gave him a one armed hug. "I'm not sure he would have even gotten in the water without you. I think there's a guest room on this floor on the other side of the hall. Shall we set then up there? They'd have to share a bed, but they're tiny..." He shrugged and looked up at his husband.

"Oh yes they usually share a bed. Um." He hesitated, feeling torn between his duties as husband and his duties as brother. Would you hate me if I had them sleep with us? I don't want them to awaken frightened, and I don't want them trying to run away again, and I'm still worried about Telyo. Or I could sleep with them in another bed. He grinned painfully apologetic at Fingon.

Fingon stopped watching the boys and turned, cupping Maedhros’ cheek with one hand. “You,” he whispered fondly. You would be a wonderful father. The best father ever to live. He nuzzled gently against his husband, brushing their noses together. “Of course. I care for them as well, you know. If you think they would do better with company they can just stay in our room-- we can leave the fort out for the morning, and there’s plenty of room here.” He kissed Maedhros and looked up at him impishly. After they’re fast asleep, though, if we can wiggle out of bed for a few minutes, I want a nice long hug and a few kisses. He glanced over at the sound of increased splashing. Of course, they may pass out soon after this in complete exhaustion-- if they do, would you like to turn on a small night crystal and write the beginning of our Mer-Findekáno adventure? We could stay in the room to keep an eye on them and… create something together-- build our own world of oceans and islands and waterfalls and fish.

Maedhros' smile grew and grew as Fingon went on. "Yes, I think that would be lovely, venno mine," he answered with a whisper and a kiss. 

"Yuck! They're being mushy!" Amrod alerted his twin, and Amrad pulled a face. "Come swim with us!" He demanded.

Fingon laughed, kissed Maedhros, and swam out with a push off the tile, sending a wave of water towards the twins. "Ha!" He grinned and allowed each to grab an arm before he began tugging them to Maedhros as they kicked at the water to help him.

Maedhros swam about the large bath with them until they began to tire, and the horrors of the storm and the issue of names had passed, and even though he waited until they looked decidedly weary by the end, they still fussed when Maedhros hauled them both out of the bath and into warm towels. "Maitimo, we want to swim in the pool tomorrow," Amras demanded sadly, as if dressing him for bed was the greatest hardship Maedhros had ever put him through.

Maedhros laughed. "We'll see. It's a bit soon for another bath."

"No, not the tub," Amrod complained with a yawn, "the pool. Downstairs."

Maedhros knit his brow. As far as he was aware, there was no downstairs.

"Ooookay, we'll see in the morning."

Fingon snorted, wondering how their little brothers knew more about their house than they did. "Sounds like an adventure! We may need to go look for it before breakfast in case we need to start filling it." Melda, do you mind if I stay in for an extra minute to wash my hair? If you you want help with the boys? I can just not drain the bath yet if we want to take turns washing off later.

Stay as long as you like, Maedhros answered. "Would you like a drink of water before you go to bed?" Maedhros asked, picking them both up with a groan.

"No," they said in unison, and still in unison after added "no, thank you."

"All right, let's get you cozied up in bed here, and get your hair braided while I tell you a story. What kind of story would you like?" Maedhros asked as he brushed out Amras' hair first.

Fingon relaxed a while longer, pulling out the shampoo and conditioner and washing his hair. He could _feel_ his husband in the next room, and could half hear the hum of their conversation. He was certain that if he focused he could hear what was being said. He hugged himself and floating, loving their bond and wondering how he and Maedhros had survived so many years without it. At length, however, he rinsed off and wrapped himself in an oversized fluffy towel. Then he made his way out of the washroom and across the floor to the closet, searching for night clothes. By the time he was changed it was time to add another log to the fire, and Maedhros was already working on Amrod's hair. 

"Does this mean you're doing everyone's hair?" Fingon asked with a teasing grin as he dropped onto the cushion next to Amras. "Am I next?"

"No, no, me next, me next!" Amrod said, bouncing and pushing Fingon. "Me next, then Finno," he decided, climbing into Fingon's lap as Maedhros braided Amras' hair. "Your bed is big," he said, eyelids drooping.

"Shh, Russ was telling us the story of the merelda that rescued his friend from a storm," Amras said. "Where did the merelda put him when it was stormy? He doesn't have a house."

"Erm, he has a--there was a tide pool, protected by rocks," Maedhros said, making this up as he went alone.

“They were in a small inlet that was protected from the storm’s rage.  A merelda would know all about these kind of places, after all.” Fingon nodded seriously, playing with Amrod’s hair.

“But how would he know how to take care of an Elda?” Amrod asked.

“Well… I imagine mereldar get injured too, sometimes.” Fingon looked around and got nods of agreement from each of the others. “So he probably knows something of healing-- being a bit of an adventurer. He wouldn’t know everything about how legs work, but I imagine he could give the Elda something for the pain, and make an ointment to promote healing and to help keep the wounds clean.”

"He might try to feed him raw fish," Maedhros said, tickling Amras once he had finished his hair and switching the twins with Fingon.

"That'd be pretty gross," Amrod decided, crawling into Maedhros' lap.

"It would be, yeah. But he could find fruits that fall from trees into the water."

"Does the mer-Elda have a pet?" Amras asked, from his place in Fingon's lap. "Like a sea-pony maybe?" He yawned.

Maedhros looked to Fingon.

“Hmm… that’s a good idea. I imagine he has sea friends-- perhaps a whale pod that lets him swim with them and sometimes hang onto their fins while they go really fast. He could even hold on while they breach… would that work?”

“Not orcas, though. Nice whales,” Amrod contributed. Fingon kissed the top of his head and nodded.

“Definitely,” Fingon said. “Nice whales. If Maitimo approves.”

"I absolutely approve. Perhaps he has small friends, too. Like the way we keep cats and dogs he'd keep crabs and small fish. What do you think, Amras?"

Amras only nodded. His eyes were closed. "Will you sing to us, Finno?" he murmured.

“I would be honored. Would a song about mountains be acceptable?” He began to hum softly and then to sing, watching Maedhros with a child on his lap. And despite their worries and the wind that continued to howl outside he felt calm and peaceful. He felt happy, and this felt right.

Fingon's voice was beautiful, and it almost put Maedhros to sleep with the comforting rumble. Amras was out like a light, and Amrod was drooping, so that when Maedhros finished with his hair he immediately shifted and curled up in his lap.

"All right, hang on," he whispered, not wanting to interrupt Fingon's singing, and placed Amrod in the center of the bed with his head on a pillow, and he helped Fingon lay Amras next to him. Please go on, he asked Fingon, as he lay down beside them to make sure they were warm and comfortable and fast asleep, covering them with warm blankets and piling pillows around them.

Fingon sang, voice rich and low as the song slowly changed and he began to sing not for family and children but for his husband. Slowly the mountain song became a song of the storm and morphed until pieces of their song began to appear in it-- phrases or minor melodies or words that held a secret meaning for the two of them. I love you, his heart sang out in time with the music. I love thee, vennonya. My one, my only, my Maitimo. He added another log to the fire and moved to where Maedhros lay, gently running a hand through his hair and smiling at the  sight of his three red haired cousins curled up together.

Maedhros began to hum along with the song, but didn't want to risk ruining it, so he did not actually sing, and he rolled over and turned to him and smiled. "Thank you. Sorry about that," he whispered, and got up carefully. "Now, I believe I owe you some extra special attention," he purred, kissing him languidly.

Fingon melted, relaxing against Maedhros and letting his mouth fall open. He wrapped his arms around Maedhros' back and guided his husband to push him against a wall. He groaned quietly, trapped by his cousin's larger frame, and bit gently on Maedhros' lower lip, tugging at it. Thank you, he said silently. And there's nothing to be sorry about. They're wonderful. I love them, too. We had to take care of them. And I love you, my Russandol. Sometime later we can go back to our original plans for tonight. But for this evening I'm happy just with this-- just want to hold you and feel your skin on mine. I love this. I love you. And I am yours, always.

Maedhros moaned aloud, but softly, and across their bond, I love you, I love you. He said. Thank you. Mine, as I am yours. Thank you for loving me, and for loving my brothers. Yes, yes, tomorrow. Tomorrow, and all the rest of our days I am yours. He kissed him slowly, the fire of lust burning low in his belly and fueling the swell of love in his heart.

Fingon's knees buckled and he found himself held up only by Maedhros' steady frame and the hard wall behind him. "Vennonya," he gasped breathlessly between kisses. He could feel Maedhros' desire, which only helped to fuel his own. Oh, Russ. If we were alone I would absolutely have to have you. Love this. Thank you. He shivered, hands making their way slowly up Maedhros' back and tangling in his hair. They stilled as one of the twins moved in his sleep and looked over. Amrod's arm came up to enfold Amras and the two soon settled again. "They're wonderful," Fingon said quietly. "I can't believe amil and atar were fighting about them. And I can't believe they rode all the way out here. We have to give their pony something special-- a whole basket of apples, perhaps." He kissed Maedhros' jaw absently as he considered gifts for a pony and, without noticing, began grinding slowly against his husband.

"We should--we should go--" Maedhros swept Fingon off his feet and carried him into the washroom where he locked the door. "I love you. Yes, apples. And I'll take them home and talk--to--oh, Findekáno, you are my everything. Thank you. Thank you."

“Russ!” Fingon laughed quietly, snuggling close against Maedhros’ chest. “What are you… are we… oh.” He leaned up, carding his fingers through his husband’s hair and bringing their lips together once, and then again and again. He shook his head slightly, not ready to think about leaving-- not when they were supposed to have another two weeks to themselves- though he recognized the importance of getting the Ambarussa home. Always assuming someone didn’t come looking for them. Perhaps their parents would think to send Kano or Turko? He let one hand fall, stroking along Madhros’ side as it slowly edged lower.

"Yes, or someone will come for them. But right now, I need you. And tomorrow you shall have me. I will be yours," he said, as he sucked on Fingon's neck worshipfully. I want you inside me now, but I need too much of your attention. We should go to sleep. Let me just taste you first?

“Yes I… I want that.” Fingon moaned softly. “But I want to taste you, too. Not what we talked about before, just… have you as you’ll have me.” He gave Maedhros a one sided smile that turned into a groan as his husband raised a bruise on his skin.

Here, lie on the floor, Maedhros said, hastily standing them until he was kneeling over Fingon and could take his sex in his mouth. And be quiet, he added with a grin as he swallowed him.

Fingon groaned, reaching up to wrap his arms around Maedhros’ waist. Valar, Russ. Love you. Just like… I don’t know, all those times. Like that time in the library, perhaps, when we had to be very, very quiet. He shiver of pleasure ran down his spine at the remembrance, and he quickly stopped his moan with his husband’s arousal.

Can't wait until you cannot keep all the memories straight. Until we have so many times together they all run together. Love you. He swallowed him deep and hummed, tongue darting out to lick what his throat couldn't reach.

Fingon made a garbled sound, squeezing his husband’s hips. Please, he thought with a moan.  I love thee. I love thee so. And I can’t wait. Do you think that someday we won’t even be able to tell quite where one of us ends and the other begins. Do you think someday our fear will be so close? Both two and one together. He pulled back slightly and then pulled Maedhros’ rear down, swallowing him fully. Russ. My Russ. How I love thee.

It wasn't long before Maedhros came hard, tasting Fingon's seed as he released. Oh love you, love you, Fin, my Finno. Before his legs gave out he moved, righting himself and wrapping his arms around Fingon. "Love you," he whispered.

Russ! Fingon flew over the edge as soon as Maedhros started, or perhaps it was perfectly in tandem with his husband. He thrust up shakily, clutching Maedhros as though he were the only solid thing in the universe. His eyes closed and his legs jerked as he fought to keep the sounds he wanted to make from escaping. “Love you,” gasped out in answer, voice rough. “Oh, Russ, I don’t want to let you go. Do you think… do you think if we each put an arm over the boys’ heads we’d be able to hold onto one another through the night?”

"I promise we will," he said, squeezing him tightly. "And tomorrow we will more than make up for it. I love you. Thank you."

“Thank _you_. I wouldn’t have known what to do to help Telyo without you.” Fingon kissed his husband’s hip. “You looked ever so beautiful tonight. Your face always lights up when you’re around children and your fea glows. I could never be disappointed by that.” His head slowly fell back to rest against the ground though his hands continued to explore Maedhros’ waist and thighs. “You are… the most exquisite, most perfectly cut, brightest jewel ever to grace Arda, arimeldanya. Aricalima Ardamírë-- there is a name to suite your fëa.” Though you will always be Maitimo Russandol to me. Nelyafinwe Maitimo Russandol, my Russ. A perfect name for a perfect Elda.

Maedhros grinned. "I love you, too. You are the perfect one, my love. Vennonya arimelda. Tyë melin, tyë melin." He pressed their brows together. "And your face when you see my brothers--it's like you're a Fëanorian. And now you are."

“I love all of your brothers. And mother and father-- aunt and uncle-- have been nothing but kind to me. They treat me as their own. It’s wonderful. And now you have a sister!” Fingon started to smile at the thought and then almost laughed. Irissë and his husband… there was sure to be entertainment when those two went head to head. Before when Aredhel and Celegorm had gotten into trouble Maedhros seemed to focus the majority of his attention on his brother. Now that they were both his siblings, only time would tell. Fingon grinned. “Are you going to turn over, darling? Or lie down? That can’t be terribly comfortable, and the tile isn’t that forgiving on an Elda’s knees.

"I'm going to carry you back to bed," he said, kissing him softly. "When you're ready to go. And with my favorite people in my arms I will be comfortable."

“Please,” Fingon whispered. “I want that. I’d like to have you hold me safe in your arms and,” he blushed faintly, “I’d like to have you tuck me into bed. And hold me at least a little while we sleep.” Later I’ll do this for you-- carry your around and spoil you rotten. You won’t even get to walk to the kitchen. I’ll carry you there and then let you plan a delicious meal. I want to pamper you and cherish you and love you.

Maedhros laughed, and clapped a hand over his mouth. "Well, I would feel silly. I'm supposed to pamper you, my precious darling love, my venno, my melda." He touched their noses together. "But I confess I would love it. Are you ready to go back to bed? I should--find some sleeping clothes--" It struck him that this was the first night he hadn't slept nude in...well, since they were wed.

“I know,” Fingon whispered. “But our arms will touch and we’ll hold our bond open and let our fear embrace. As long as we can be together like that I won’t feel bereft or alone.” He looked at his rumpled nightclothes. “Will you help me get dressed? Or shall we adjourn to the closet?” He giggled and shook his head. “Formally married, our bond completed, on our honeymoon, and now we’re hiding in washrooms and closets. Only us, Russ.”

Maedhros flashed him a brilliant smile. "Only us." He kissed Fingon and then scooped him up. "I cannot even blame the Ambarussa. It's just our luck." They made it to the closet without trouble and slipped inside, giggling.

"Eh, it could be worse, I suppose. At least we didn't end up hiding under the bed!" Fingon help a hand over his mouth to stall his giggles as they closed the closet door and turned on a low crystal. "Do you want sleep clothes that match mine, or something different?"

"Yes, we must match," he said, taking every opportunity to brush his fingers against Fingon's skin. "Would you come with me, tomorrow? Assuming the storm lets up and no one thinks to look here for them."

"Of course." Fingon smiled, leaning into Maedhros' caresses. "Just try to stop me. And even if we have to go find our family to deliver the boys… it's still our honeymoon." He blushed and looked up at his husband. "I'm not ready to let that go yet."

"Agreed. I think we should get an extra day at the end," Maedhros said with a smile. "So, are we ready to turn in? Or should we write some more?" He held up the notebook he'd hastily kicked into the closet to hide from his brothers.

"Let's write for a few minutes. But we have to get in the mood, first!" Fingon began digging through an 'outdoor gear' trunk. "Here-- candlelight!" He held up a candle in glee, looking entirely too pleased with himself. They lit the candle and turned down the crystal, curling up together in the closet that was large enough to be a small sitting room. "Now where were we? In the midst of the storm, or had we just talked about that? Do you want to really start writing or should we keep thinking up ideas and adventures?"

"Um, well, I'm not sure," Maedhros said. "I think we should start?" He leaned against Fingon and licked his pen. 'It was a dark and stormy night' he wrote, because it was suitable to the mood.

"That's the weather for you," Fingon murmured. A rumble of thunder sounded above them, and he grinned and pressed himself closer to his husband, pulling a blanket over them. "So… what kind of a ship is he on?" They wrote about the storm and about the merelda's daring rescue of the Elda, pulling his unconscious and injured form to a protected beach and binding his wounds. "I think things are about to get interesting," Fingon said with a grin as they prepared to wake the injured Elda. "How long do you think it will take him to notice the tail?" He ran his foot up Maedhros' calf teasingly, and turned to kiss his husband's cheek.

Maedhros shivered, catching Fingon's hand before he started something they couldn't exactly finish in the closet with his little brother's sleeping just outside. "Er. It might take him a while. It might even be amusing. Well, or he's just delirious and not really looking to make sure his savior has all the usual anatomy. Speaking of anatomy--" he blushed but continued: "How does his--erm--well I mean, how do we get them to--bond, ultimately? I'm afraid I'd have to research fish anatomy."

"Dolphins!" Fingon turned bright red after his exclamation. "Ah… well…. that is to say… did you ever spend time around the dolphins in Alqualonde? They warned us not to rub the males' bellies because they'd… well, they'd get… excited, and… start to rise out of a slit in their belly. Um…" He ducked his head, burying his flaming face in Maedhros' neck. After all they had done together he wasn't sure why this topic of marine anatomy was embarrassing him so.

Maedhros giggled, also blushing. " _Ohh_ ," he said. "Yes, I think I remember that. Well, that's enough anatomy to go on, I suppose," he decided, trying to change the subject. "Well, and of course he wouldn't be a fish," he realized, "because he can breathe air!"

"He'll just be… special. Different." Fingon grinned. "He could be sort of fishy-- he could be able to breathe underwater? He could have… side gills or something. They'd close up when he was out of the water."

"Oh, I like that," Maedhros said, turning the page to draw this wondrous creature. "Gills here, maybe, where the fish part meets the Elda part."

Fingon laughed quietly. "He's kind of strange. But we can work with that." He slipped an arm around Maedhros' waist and leaned his head on his husband's shoulder. "You're a beautiful artist. I like that. What about his hair? Long and kind of wavy?"

"Ohh, yes," Maedhros said, drawing long, thick, flowing locks that were loose and straight--for to him, Fingon's hair was his most beautiful (physical) asset. "Long, long, long hair. Thick and straight and shining." He probably drew it too long.

"Perfect. I like it. Hmm… gills, an awesome swimmer… I imagine he can see underwater very well. I wonder what else we'll come up with for him. Oh!" Fingon lifted his head with an excited look at his husband. "Can you draw the two of them together? Our injured Elda and his merelda?"

"I could try," Maedhros said, flipping pages to start again, and sketching loose lines until a mereldar carrying a limp Eldar began to take shape. "He's rather smaller, but hardly frail. His tail is very long, see? If you laid them top to tip he might be taller than the Elda." He yawned, only now realizing he was lying in Fingon's lap to draw, in almost the same position he was drawing the figures.

"But he must be very beautiful, my--our-- Eldar. With hair like flames worked into gold. And with a princely face. He's strong and well formed, with lean muscles and an easy smile. And golden skinned from time spent in the sun, sparring and playing and most recently sailing." Fingon traced Maedhros' lips. "He'll have gentle eyes, and soft lips. It will be a trial for our merelda to keep from kissing him before he wakes."

Maedhros looked slyly up at him. "Won't true love's kiss save him?"

“Hmm, that’s a good point.” Fingon’s hand slid up to the back of Maedhros’ head and pulled him into a lingering kiss. “It saved me.” Or does it not count because you caught me first? The kiss counts as part of that, right? Either way it saved me. Hmm, true love’s kiss. I like that.

"Saved from what? I always had you," Maedhros whispered into the kiss. "Your kiss saved me."

"From everything. From darkness, if you wish-- you bring me life. But--” Fingon slid his arms about Maedhros' holding him close and sharing his memories of their first trip to their valley. He remembered laughing and walking, and then the rockslide-- the sensation of having no ground under him and then suddenly being supported, as he'd known he would be, and pulled to safety, held protectively between Maedhros and the cliff face. And he remembered his cousin holding him and leaning forward, and then their lips coming together as though it were inevitable and right and unstoppable in that instant. "I love thee," he whispered, tied more firmly to Maedhros through their bond, though even so far back Fingon had known that his cousin teacher best friend Russandol was his life.

Maedhros hummed, happily, remembering the time well. "I love thee," he answered. He set his notebook down and closed his eyes. "Mm, Finno, I love thee."

"And I, thee." Fingon smiled, petting Maedhros and rubbing gentle circles into his scalp and neck. "Do you want to go to bed, arimeldanya?" I only ask for your hand. I don't think I would be able to sleep if I were not able to touch you.

Both hands, Maedhros promised. To do with as you will. He imagined them lying facing the twins, holding hands over and above them. "Yes, let's to bed." He stowed his notebook under a chest.

Fingon was more than pleased with that promise. He smiled and stood, offering Maedhros his hands. When they were both on the feet they came together for a timeless kiss and a warm embrace before finally blowing out the candle and making their way into the main room. I love thee, Fingon thought. I love all three of you. But I adore you, my Russandol. Tomorrow… an adventure with the boys. And then I'll show you just what you do to me, my perfect husband.

Maedhros blushed so hot he feared he glowed. Yes, I yearn for you, he said as they crawled into bed where the Ambarussa were pressed so tight together Maedhros and Fingon were not laying so far from each other, after all. They clasped hands above the twins' heads, and also where their hands rested protectively over their tiny chests.

Goodnight Russandol. Goodnight my doll. I'll be with you come morning, and I look forward to you being the first thing I see when I wake. He smiled wryly. Well, assuming the boys don't wake before us. I yearn for you. I adore you. I love you. I am yours. Sweetest dreams, my dearest prince.

Sweet dreams, my love, Maedhros replied, squeezing his hands, and when Amras shifted against him, jabbing an elbow into his ribs, he shifted to get more comfortable. I love you. Sleep well, my prince. My Findekáno.


	15. Chapter 15

Fingon woke much as he fell asleep, though with a heavy weight against him where Amrod had managed to turn himself around entirely and was draped across Fingon’s thigh, head directed towards the back of Fingon’s feet. Fingon blinked at the toes wiggling in his face in confusion and squeezed his husband’s hand gently. Mara tuile, he sent softly, unsure if any of the others were awake.

Maedhros snorted softly, blinking past red tangles and toes to Fingon's face. Morning, arimeldanya, he answered, smiling. How did he get down there? he wondered, though he shouldn't have been surprised. Caranthir had always been a squirmy sleeper, too, and he'd woken up to find him trapped at the foot of the bed where the blanket was tucked into the mattress. They looked peaceful, though, so Maedhros didn't want to wake them. How did you sleep, Finno, my love?

Good, for you were with me. He grinned and looked at the twins. I didn’t even wake up during… that. However that happened. I slept very well-- I think I half felt your fëa even when I was dreaming. And you? Did you sleep well, arimelda?

I slept well, yes--I woke a few times to check on them, he confessed, but I had you with me, so I slept contentedly. Also, I never saw Pityo's feet in your face like that! he added, and laughed out loud, at which Amras squirmed and shifted.

You’re the best big brother in Arda, Fingon thought proudly. They’re very fortunately to have you to turn to. We all are. He squeezed their fingers together. “How late do you think they’ll sleep?” Fingon asked softly. “I’d be happy to stay here like this until they’re up and about.”

"Oh, not much longer," Maedhros responded, knowing those toe wiggles anywhere. Pretty soon there was a squeak, and Maedhros grabbed the foot before it ended up in Fingon's teeth. "Up here, Pityo. You got turned around," he whispered. Amras sighed and shifted back toward his twin, though without opening his eyes, as Amrod's head popped out of the blanket.

"Hi, Nelyo! Hi, Finno!" he said, rubbing his eyes.

“Morning, melda. And how are my favorite youngest brothers?”

“’sleep,” Amrod said, not ready to be fully awake.

“If you keep sleeping you might get squashed.” Fingon began to roll over, onto his brother in law.

“Ah! Squishing! Don’t squish me! I’m… I’m- ”

“Soft and squishable?” Fingon suggested, keeping a straight face.

“Soft and squishable,” Amrod said with a nod. “Wait! No! That’s not what I wanted to say! Finoooo!”

Maedhros laughed as Amrod finally awoke fully in order to fight back, grunting and pushing with all his might. "Gerroff me, Findekáno!" he laughed. "Telyo, help!"

Now Amras woke up, helping his brother even before he was quite awake.

"Here now, don't gang up on my husband!" Maedhros said, wrapping his arms around them both and pulling them to his side of the bed. "And you, Fin, I quite like my brothers not flattened."

"Aww, come on, Russandol. I mean, have you ever tried having flattened brothers?" Fingon managed to get both boys under him and started to lower himself. "Maybe you'll like them that way?"

“Findekánooooo!!!” Two voices chimed in unison. Fingon grinned unrepentantly.

"Ooh, you know, they'd be easier to look after that way. Take up less space. Wouldn't eat as much," Maedhros mused as his brothers screeched. "But all the same, Fin, how would I explain it to my dear parents?"

"I… we could just not explain? With all their usual antics surely it wouldn't be that much of a surprise if they somehow managed to squish themselves?" He lowered himself again during the word squish and the twins flailed. "Oh, I suppose I can let them go. A kiss from you and a hug from each of them would be a good showing of thanks, don't you think?" He grinned down at them and then up at Maedhros.

"You'll get no blackmailed hugs out of us!" Shouted Amrod, for the twins were too smart for this. "We will tickle you!" Announced Amras, and before Maedhros could do anything they set upon Fingon, who was very ticklish, and Maedhros had to laugh before plucking up one under each arm. "All right, let's get you rascals dressed and fed."

Fingon flopped back onto the bed, burying his head under a pillow. "Evil!" he called out. "Your brothers are evil, beloved! They're mayhem causing, mischievous, evil, adorable little rascals. I really shouldn't like them so much."

Maedhros had one under each arm around the middle, facing back, and they dangled unhelpfully and were entirely too big to be carried about like this. They grinned at Fingon. "Nelyo, Nelyo, will you make waffles? Finno, tell him to make waffles!"

"Now what makes you think I'd listen to him?" Maedhros teased.

"You have to! Because you're married!"

Maedhros laughed. "Yes, well, I suppose you're right..."

"Pleeeeease, Findekáno? Pretty please?"

"Why do you think I'd do that?" Fingon pulled the pillow off his head and rolled over to watch them. "I mean… you two don't even want to hug me." He looked at his husband. "What do you think, vennonya? Do we have everything we need to make waffles? If you want to start on breakfast once we're up and about I'll get food to the horses and see if they want to head outside."

"And the Ambarussa will help you," Maedhros said, setting them down. "And give Findekáno a hug," he added, or I feed the waffles to the horses." He looked out the large windows at the end of the room. "It's still raining, so let the horses back in if they want."

The Ambarussa scurried each to take one of Fingon's hands, determined to be good.

Fingon smiled, squeezing both of their hands. "Do you want me to find you some clothes, first? I'm afraid everything will be a bit big on you-- unless you two have a room somewhere in here?"

"Em," Amrod said, and looked to his twin. "No clothes for me, please," he said, remarkably politely.

"Nor me please," Amras added, smiling sweetly.

"The clothes they came in with are drying by the fire!" Maedhros called, marveling at the acoustics in the house.

"Then I'm sure they're dry by now. Come on, boys-- if you grab your clothes I'll throw on something as well. And then we can go visit the kitchen- the kitchen that your brother's been cooking in for several days now, so the cold box is filled with all sorts of wonderful leftovers." He squeezed their hands and kissed Amras' brow and then Amrod's. "The first person dressed and back here gets first choice of what they want to snack on while we take food to the horses and your pony."

"Oh! Oh!" They shouted, running back to the washroom. Maedhros winked at him from the top of the stairs, and went to the kitchen to begin by making tea for himself and Fingon. The Ambarussa were together in this as in all things, and arrived together, fully dressed, though Amrod had his shirt on backwards.

"I need to remember to be more specific," Fingon muttered. He walked over to Amrod and lifted his shirt off, replacing it properly. "These two are too clever for me!" He kissed his husband before opening the cupboard and rummaging about, searching for treats and food for the horses.

"Mm, apples!" Amras said loudly. "Please! For me and for pony."

"Me too please! A pink one for me and a green one for pony!"

Maedhros nodded. "I think they all deserve some apples."

Fingon found a basket and begin filling it with apples and carrots from the cold cupboard. "Alright- are you boys ready? Let's see how the horses made out and by the time we get back I bet Russandol will have some waffles finished!"

"Yes!!!" The twins set off running down the hall ahead of Fingon, each with an apple in hand. Fingon shrugged, grinned this husband, and followed after them.

As Maedhros began his famous waffles, Amrod and Amras sped toward the front porch where the horses were, doling out apples and screaming when the horses tried taking the apples that belonged to them.

Laughing, Fingon offered carrots and apples to his horse and to his husband's- the twins had already gone up to the packhorse and were happily feeding it. They returned to the basket for more food until, all too soon, all of their treats had been doled out. The Ambarussa looked at him in disappointment. "We can feed them again later," Fingon offered. "But for now… waffles!" He was certain Maedhros could hear their excited shrieks from all the way across their home.

"Ohhh, no," Maedhros said, turning to meet the rushing tide. "Halt!" he told them, and the slipped against the tiles to a stop. "Not done yet. Did you wash your hands? And did you hug Finno?"

They gasped, as if appalled they had forgotten these things, and wheeled on Fingon as he approached, attaching themselves to his legs. "We love you, Finno!" they cried. "Will you help us wash our hands?"

"I'll help you wash your hands." Fingon was grinning as each of the twins grabbed a hand and began tugging him towards the closest washroom. "Now, I think we had an even dozen syrups. Do you two know what you want? We had blueberry and maple and raspberry and strawberry and dark maple and a few others, I think."

"Blueberry-- no, maple and blueberry!"

"Blueberry and raspberry!"

“Blueberry and maple and raspberry!”

“Raspberry and strawberry!”

“What are you having Finno?” They chorused their last statement.

“Whatever your brother’s having,” he answered, rather boringly judging by the expressions the twins wore.

Maedhros eyed them all like strange creatures he couldn't quite understand. "Uh...maple? Just maple," he said, and the twins deflated. "Look, here, sit up here," he said, helping them onto barstools where he had set plates and forks in front of them. Just when they had got up, the first waffle finished, and he split it in half for them to share.

Fingon laughed, leaning against his husband as they watched the twins dig into their meal. I love you, he thought. “Hmm, how many waffles do you think they can eat? Should I be worried about there being a waffle left over for use?”

"No, because you get the next waffle," Maedhros said, kissing Fingon. I love you more.

“My hero,” Fingon said delightedly. He leaned up to kiss his husband again. “I love you most.”

“Ick!” Amrod said.

“Gross,” his brother added.

“Ambarussa!” Fingon rolled his eyes.

The Ambarussa went immediately back to their waffles, and combining all the syrups on their plates into a sugary mess.

"Ick," Maedhros said, looking at their plates. Soon Fingon's waffle was done, and Maedhros served him with a kiss.

“Thanks Russandol. You know… on second thought, I don’t need the sugar.” He gave the giggling twins a look. “I think I’ll just enjoy your cooking. Did you want half of mine?” He sliced the waffle in half and began to cut up the closest side.

"I'll wait for mine," Maedhros said, sprinkling some chopped nuts in his waffle before closing the lid. "Unless you want nuts in yours? I could give you half of mine?" he asked, leaning his hip against Fingon.

“Mmm. I’ll try half of yours. If you don’t mind.” Fingon took another bite, amazed at the speed with which the twins were finishing their second pieces. “This is _delicious_ , Russandol. Thank you!”

"You're very welcome," he said pointedly, which reminded the twins to observe their manners:

"Oh! Thanks, Nelyo!"

"Really yummy, Nelyo!"

Maedhros laughed and shook his head.

"You're _stiill_ hungry?" Fingon asked, voice awed as he shook his head. "Incredible."

"It's been days and days and days, Findekáno!" Amrod looked at him sadly. "Kano's been cooking. Do you know what that's like?"

"I don't remember him being that bad-- his food was completely edible last time I had it."

"He's halfway through composing a movement."  Amras looked at him sadly.

"Oh." That would explain it.

"Well, what's father working on?" Maedhros said. Fëanor did the second-most cooking since Maedhros was grown, at least when he wasn't working on a project that had him working late and forgetting to eat.

The twins darkened, remembering their father's words frm the previous night, but "He's working on a thing," Amrod said with a shrug.

Maedhros sighed. Was his house falling apart without him? He wondered guiltily.

Fingon just laughed. See, you really are the most important person in our family, he thought with a burst of affection. How I love thee, Maitimo, heart and lifeblood of the family. "Can't you feed yourselves yet?" Fingon felt his husband's wince. "I mean… you can mostly reach everything in the kitchen now, right? And I'm sure you can figure out ways to reach what you can't."

"We tried!" Amrod exclaimed. His eyes suddenly grew wide and he looked at Maedhros nervously. "It… um… well… as Turko said, it didn't go too well. Except he kept laughing until Kano came in and told him he was busy so Turko had to help us clean it up."

Maedhros flashed a smile at Fingon but turned to his youngest brothers. "Turko will help you. Or I'll talk to father about hiring a cook." He frowned. "Or I can bring suppers by sometimes. And you are always welcome here to eat--though I'd prefer an announcement next time," he told them, taking his waffle off, splitting it onto his and Fingon's plates, and setting another on the iron.

"Thanks" Fingon whispered, tucking into the next waffle.

"We'll ask Turko to send you a bird," Amrod offered. "But... I'm, if we're in the area can we still come by and knock?"

"Well you'll have to ask Finno, it's half his house, too," Maedhros said, and the twins turned big pouty faces on their brother-in-law.

"Puh-leeeeease, Finnooooo?" they asked, wringing their hands.

"We'd love to have you over. You'll have to ask Amil and Atar, and you can't live here, but I'd love to have my favorite twins around." He winked at them and look over at Maedhros. Is that good?

Thank you, Maedhros replied, as the twins celebrated.

"Maitimo, can I have some more juice, please?"

"Me, too, please?"

"Of course you may," Maedhros reached across the counter to pour more orange juice into their glasses. "Finno?" he offered, before they were all startled by the doorbell again.

The twins looked guilty. Maedhros straightened. "Fin, can you watch the waffle iron? I'll go see who it is." And make sure the twins don't bolt.

"Of course. You boys will have to help me make sure I don't burn your waffle. Have you decided on a favorite syrup combination?" Amrod started to answer and Amras through a hand across his twin's face.

"We haven't gotten to try them all yet," Amras said quickly. "Atar would say we don't have enough information, so we can't decide yet. More waffles!"

"Soon," Fingon agreed. "You don't want gooey waffles!"

Maedhros was glad to see his father and mother together when he opened the door, and was a little too satisfied at seeing them looking tired and concerned--and he was actually genuinely glad to see Fëanor with his arm around Nerdanel.

"The twins, they--" Fëanor gasped, but Maedhros held up a hand, pulling them inside.

"Yes, they are here. They came here last night," he said, taking his mother's cloak but grabbing his father's arm before he ran inside. He shut the door to the rest of the house so they would not be overheard. "They heard you...fighting? Apparently? Telyo thinks it's his fault and thinks you hate him," he said sternly.

Fëanor looked suitably chagrined, and Nerdanel's eyes went wide. "Are they all right? We didn't think they would hear! It was a stupid fight, anyway." She waved at Fëanor: "Call them whatever you want--"

"NO," Maedhros said. "They are old enough to know their own names. If they both want to be Ambarussa--and they do, so they said last night, Telyo was nearly petrified with shock..." he trailed off, glaring at the both of them, but especially at his father. "It's called an amilessë for a reason," he hissed. "And if you weren't so often in your workshop you'd _know_ how alike they are!" he was suddenly deeply angry about this, not just that his father would presume to tell his mother what to call his brothers, but that he would presume to rename them so late in life, like he had only just bothered to realize that they had been walking around by the same amilesse.

"Nelyo, I'm _sorry_ ," Feanor said, actually accepting the abuse, which surprised Maedhros. "It was a stupid fight. We were both tired."

"And who has been doing the cooking since I've been gone? Will you just swallow your pride and hire a cook at least until the twins can reach the stove?" he went on. As Fëanor opened his mouth, "I don't _care_ what you're working on! The Ambarussa are _concerned_ about where their next meals should come from. Your sons are going _hungry_!" he snapped, absolutely fuming.

Fingon heard raised voices coming from the hallway, and suddenly he was joined at the counter and had four small arms wrapped around his legs. “Findekáno!” He leaned down immediately.

“Hey there-- everything’s alright. You know they’re all worried about you? All of us are. Now, Maitimo wouldn’t let anything happen to you, would he?”

“No,” Amrod whispered, shaking his head in tandem with his brother. Fingon sighed and lifted them one at a time, seating them on the counter with a quick hug.

“Nobody in this family would let them go hungry,” Fëanor responded after taking a deep breath. “No one. I know all of my children, and if they said they were hungry, if they asked for food, there’s not a person in this family who would not stop what they were doing to help them-- your mother and I included.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Nelyafinwë, you know perfectly well that I know my sons, that I take time to be around my children even when I’m invested in projects. If you think I need to spend more time with them individually, that’s an issue that can be discussed at a later date. As far as their names… when they were young it was generally considered ‘cute’ to call them by one name. People saw them as one fëa in two hröar. I believed that now that they are growing up they should have their own names-- that when someone called for them they would know who was being called for, when one did something amazing he would get credit. That’s what your mother and I were discussing and while we can talk about the twins escaping and getting this far, and that is a conversation between your mother and I. It is not something you need lecture me or us on.”

Maedhros blinked, looking with concern to his mother. "He wasn't telling you what to name them, then?" He looked darkly at his father again. "Because that's what it sounded like." Though, to be fair, his word came from a conversation half-heard by children.

 Now Nerdanel smiled. "Do you think I would let him?" she asked.

“I was not. And whether I was or not, do you think it is your duty to interfere in a discussion I’m having with your mother? That either she is so weak or I so cruel that it has become your place to stand there and tell us how we are wrong?” Fëanor sighed, brushed his hair behind his shoulders, and swept towards the kitchen, which the smell of breakfast was permeating from.

Maedhros opened his mouth to respond, but he was--well, not entirely in the right--but his father walked on before he could speak, and that made him even more frustrated. He turned to his mother: "Is he--? Did I--?" he began, so flustered he couldn't finish, but deflated after a moment. "The Ambarussa were _scared_ , amil," he said quietly. "Telyo wasn't even speaking. And you and atar never fight. Can I at least be angry that he's _trying_ to tell you what to name them? And Kano and Tyelko shouldn't be babysitting if they cannot be trusted to feed themselves," he huffed, but she laid a gentle hand on his arm.

"Maitimo," she said, and her voice calmed him. "If you have never fought with Findekáno, then you may scold us. The Ambarussa should not have heard us, and fear not, they will never be known by anything but 'Ambarussa'--both of them. They would not want it any other way, and your father respects that as much as I do. As for Macalaure and Tyelkormo, they have your shoes to fill, my son, and are still getting used to it." She stood on her toes to kiss the top of his lowered head. "I love you, my son."

"Love you, too." Maedhros lifted his head, grinning sheepishly. "Thanks for the house," he said, which fell wholly short of his gratitude.

Fingon had taken out the next waffle and was cutting it in half, the boys still clinging to his legs, when Fëanor walked in. He paused, feeling Amras’ hands grip him with more strength. He straightened before nodding his head. “My lord uncle… Atar.”

“Findekáno,” Feanor answered softly. “Ambarussa.”

“Have you and Amil eaten? I can make a couple more waffles-- don’t worry, they’re my husband’s recipe.” He smiled as he described Maedhros as his husband. “I’m just helping cook them. I think I heard Amil-- or was one of our brothers with you?”

“Nerdanel is talking to Nelyafinwë,” Feanor answered. “We were both quite worried about our youngest. Thank you for looking after them. 

“It was as nothing,” Fingon answered, shaking his head. “They’ve been on their best behavior and have been helping out this morning. We actually just got back from feeding the horses.”

Amrod and Amras stil clutched at Fingon's legs, eyeing their father shyly. "Are you mad at Ambarussa?" Amrod asked outright, referring to his brother by their shared name, lip jutting out in pouting defiance. Amras his his face.

“No. No, I’m not mad.” Fëanor sat back on his heels so that he was close to their height. “I’d say never, but… I know the kind of trouble you two get up to, and I’m not about to say something that would give you free reign to cause chaos.” He tried on a small grin.

Fëanor sighed. “I love you both very much. Your mother and I were both very tired, worried about projects, and started arguing. You weren’t meant to hear. And if you like both being Ambarussa then Ambarussa you both shall stay.”

Amras poked his face out from between Fingon's legs. "Not mad at amil?" he asked, though he looked very much like he wanted a hug.

“No, not mad at Amil or anyone.” Fëanor held his hands open. “Do you think I can get a hug? I missed you both, Ambarussa. And I was very worried while we were searching for you in the storm. Especially when we realized you were coming here and would be going across the bridge in the wind and the rain.”

The Ambarussa took one look at each other before rushing into their father's arms, nearly knocking him over. Both were crying, slightly, but when Nerdanel walked in, followed by Maedhros, the boys brightened and "AMILLLL!" they shouted and rushed her. She picked them both up with an exaggerated groan.

"Oh, my boys. My big brave boys! Why were you out in the storm like that?" she asked, kissing them, but they didn't answer.

Fingon added more batter to make another waffle and stepped forward, embracing Fëanor as he stood since Nerdanel’s arms were full. “Thank you,” he whispered against his father-in-law’s neck. “Thank you for the house, the kitchen for Russ, the bed, all the showers… for everything!” Fëanor squeezed him tightly and Fingon was brought back to the engagement and fighting with his own father. He’d seen how much that had hurt both of them and he stood on his toes, holding Fëanor close. “Thank you, Atar. We are so blessed by our family-- Nelyo and I. We love you all so much. This has been… more than we could have dreamed.”

Feanor squeezed Fingon and smiled. "You're welcome, my son. What other gift could I give the Elda that makes my firstborn the happiest in Aman? It's not enough," he promised him softly, and let him go.

Maedhros stepped up behind Fingon, eyeing his father with a look of sheepish apology and wary concern. "S-sorry," he said haltingly, but before he could go on Fëanor pulled him into a fierce hug. "I'm just worried about leaving home," he whispered. "Worried you still need me."

"I will always need you," Fëanor said firmly, pulling back to look Maedhros in the eye. "We all will. But we can share you," he said with a grin as he looked between Maedhros and Fingon.

Fingon grinned, wrapping an arm around Maedhros. “Love you venno,” he said softly. “And you, Atar, and you Amil, and you two, Ambarussa.” He looked at the table. “Actually, I’m not sure how I feel about you two right now-- Russ makes you waffles, I cook them, and you two don’t eat them? What happened to testing all the syrup combinations?” Nerdanel sent him a slightly horrified look. He pulled out the next waffle and added it to a fresh plate. “Did you want breakfast, Amil? Sorry, Russ-- I just kept cooking in case anyone else needed food.”

"My spices!" Maedhros shouted, panicking comically and dousing the bowl with a flurry of flavors and adjusting the batter until the Ambarussa were howling with laughter, at which point he began making more waffles, and put on a new pot of tea. Nerdanel lifted Amras and sat down with him on her lap. Maedhros wrapped his arms around Fingon as he waited between waffles.

I love you, Fingon murmured across their bond. You’re not-- you’re not upset are you? That they came here? That I… that things happened as they did?

Maedhros shook his head minutely. No. I needed to yell at my father and he needed him to remind me I'm his son, he told him with a private grin. Though now that it's all worked out I can't wait until they leave.

Fingon breathed an audible sigh of relief. Thank you. Thank you. I love you and I don’t want us to be upset with each other. I just… he looked so worried and sad and… don’t tell either of them but he looked just like my father after our brother shot me. And he was trying to reassure the boys but when they ran to Amil I just had to… I love all of them, Russ. And you, most of all. I love you. And I can’t wait either. He shot his husband a private look. I yearn for you, beloved. In the closet last night… was not nearly enough.

Maedhros blushed, burying his face in Fingon's hair. I yearn for thee, he told Fingon, as a finished waffle separated them. Fëanor liked his with pecans, like Maedhros, so he made another like this while Fëanor bent to help the Ambarussa with their taste testing syrup science.

“How was the journey over?” Fingon asked. “You two must have been caught in part of the storm as well. We could hear the wind, not to mention the thunder, even from our room.”

“Yeah-- it was really loud!” Amrod added. “But Nelyo and Findekáno kept us safe!”

"I hardly felt it, I was so worried about my boys," Nerdanel said, squeezing them.

"It was a pretty rough storm," Fëanor agreed. "Never seen one like it."

Amras tugged on his sleeve and whispered up at him: "Sorry we made you go out in it."

"Ah, Telyo!" Fëanor said, squeezing him. "I'm sorry we made _you_ go out in it! But you have to admit it was rather adventurous!"

Amras giggled and nodded.

Fingon noted that everyone’s attention was focused elsewhere, and he slid his arm lower on Maedhros’ waist, grasping a round globe of flesh and delighting in his husband’s sudden intake of breath. Careful, or they’ll notice. Does it feel good, arimeldanya? Do you ache for me even half as much as I do for thee? Fingon turned to address their parents, adventurous hand hidden from view. “Did you have plans for the day Atar, Amil? We had been planning to try to find you to return Ambarussa, but since you’re here I suppose we can consider that task complete.”

Maedhros chewed on his lip to keep from squeaking as Fingon teased him, but was saved by the twins:

"Oh, Nelyonelyonelyo, and Finno! Can we swim in the poooooooool?" they cried, but Fëanor answered:

"It's still raining, and we can't swim in the rain! Anyway you boys need to come home, because I need your help in the forge!" he declared excitedly, and the boys cheered.

"We've intruded on Maitimo and Findekáno's honeymoon more than we should have," Nerdanel added with a knowing grin.

“Not that we don’t love to have you,” Fingon said with a shrug and a sheepish look. He kneaded the fistful of Maedhros’ flesh before his hand dropped suddenly lower, playing with the delicate skin further down for a brief moment before he stepped away. “Thank you for coming after them. And for everything you’ve done. I’ll admit, we’re still finding our way around the house and grounds and we haven’t seen everything yet, but… Amil, this is all extraordinary! We must have the most caring and thoughtful family in all Aman.” He stepped forward to hug Nerdanel gently. “Thank you. We are awed and humbled by the care everyone has shown.”

"Yes," Maedhros said hastily, coughing to clear his throat, still recovering. "We owe you a great thanks. And we promise you can swim in the pool next time we invite you over," he told his younger brothers.

Nerdanel waved her hand. "It was nothing for our firstborns," she said.

“We love you too,” Fingon said with a grin. He laughed, retaking his seat and finishing his second serving of waffle. “Russ, your cooking is incredible! Atar, what projects are you working on now?”

“I have several project that are ongoing, though there’s one I’ve been focused on for the past week.” Fëanor lifted a shoulder carelessly. “I’m considering the properties of various crystals and the ability to store data in them. Particularly I’m considering how we might design them to have… a link with each other, that one might see as the other sees.” He spoke a little longer, his explanation growing more technical, and eventually broke off with a grin. “Sorry. I’ll show it to you later, should anything come of it.”

Maedhros shook his head fondly at his father, nudging the unfinished plate at his elbow to remind him to eat. Eat and get out, he almost thought, a sudden need for Fingon alone having been stirring since Fingon touched him.

"Maitimo and Finno told us a story," Amrod informed them. "Bout Mer-elda. Do they exist, Atar?"

"Well," Feanor laughed. "If your older brother says so, then they must! Have you ever known Nelyo to tell you something that wasn't true?"

"No!" Amras said, saluting Maedhros with his fork. "Nelyo always tells the truth!" he exclaimed.

Fingon laughed, nudging his husband. Everyone’s hero, my Russandoll. You truly are amazing. The most amazing Elda in Arda. And venno, how I long to get on my knees for you and to have you spread out and leaking beneath me. He trembled slightly and focused on each bite of his waffle as he ate it. “You know, if you want some other good stories, Ambarussa, you should ask Turko and Irissë. I’m sure they could find some to read to you.” Ambarussa looked at him with wide eyes while all of the adults in the room shot him a tandem pointed look.

"Well, on that note, we should probably be back home," Nerdanel said briskly. There was no need for them to be encouraged at such impressionable young ages to take advice from the most eyebrow-raising prince and princess of Tírion. The glare she gave Fingon had an air of Well Played to it.

Fëanor laughed, lifting Amrod into his arms. "Yes, we'll be out of your hair." He stuffed the last bites of his waffle into his mouth. "Which combination of syrups was the best, boys?" he asked before they could whine.

Amrod looked at his brother before answering. “We haven’t tried every possible permutation, so it’s far too soon to give you our results. We’ll need a longer test with more waffles and more syrups to ensure we have a good preliminary series of data.” Fëanor laughed and hugged his son.

“Well, I hope you enjoyed your waffles despite not being able to finish.” Fingon hugged Amras and then moved to embrace Amrod, Nerdanel, and Fëanor. “Thank you all. We’ll enjoy continuing to explore our-- our home.” His eyes brightened as he said that. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He stepped back and began to wash up from breakfast as his husband said his goodbyes.

"Sorry I--" Maedhros began again at the door, but Fëanor interrupted him:

"Didn't make bacon to go with these waffles? You should be! You owe us a proper breakfast next time we're by!" he said, pulling his son into a rough one-armed hug.

"I love you. Have fun."

"Love you, Atar. Be good now, Ambarussa!"

"Bye, Nelyo! Tell Finno we love him!"

"And we love your pool!"

"Which we get to swim in next time!"

"Bye, Amil!" Maedhros said, laughing as he closed the door.


	16. Chapter 16

Fingon raced through the dishes, near desperate to have his husband near again. Everything was sitting in the kitchen rack to dry as he made his way towards the door, laughing and running to catch Maedhros as he saw him walking back. “Venno!” He threw himself into Maedhros’ arms fearlessly, holding him tight and offering his lips for a kiss that quickly grew deep and long. Sorry. Sorry. Need you. I’m… so sorry that everyone was upset. Things are alright now, aren’t they? Between everyone, I mean. I want to know that our family is well so that I can let go of all thoughts except those of you, my darling doll. If you don’t mind. I need to be inside of you.

Yes, yes, Maedhros replied, stomach fluttering as urgently as when he first kissed Fingon. Everything's all right, I promise. I need you. Already gone, them. Please? You. He rocked against Fingon desperately, tugging at his clothes. Want to be yours.

"Fuck, Russ! Need this. But… may I… may I have you again tonight, or do I have to wait until then?" Fingon pulled back to look at him, pressing his hips back against Maedhros and matching his husband's movements. "I still want… what we said last night. I want to finish in you, to have you hold my seed deep within all through the night. And I want to lick you open in the morning, to slip into you nice and easy while you're still all wet inside."

Maedhros was going to go out of his mind with lust, and he grabbed Fingon's shirt with strength enough to rip it. "Take me until I'm raw, Findekáno," he demanded, "until I beg for mercy, or until I cannot walk. Please."

Fingon straightened up, pushing onto his toes until he nearly matched his husband’s height. “Tell me I’m your boy,” he demanded, nearly growling. His grabbed a fistfull of Maedhros’ hair and tugged at it, then twisted his hand sharply. “Tell me that I am yours forever and that you will always want me. Convince me of how much you need this, and we will spend today in bath and on the couch and in our bed. Convince me that you’re even more desperate and I’ll tie myself off for you and fuck you until we’re both raw, until we can’t think and my fingers are trembling too badly to untie myself when I finally try. Convince me and I’ll spend a torturously long while just licking at you, lavishing attention on every last part of you. I’ll worship you like you deserve, my perfect Russandoll. But first, let me know that is what you want, what you need.”

"I--" Maedhros gulped, unable to breathe past his desire, the flame that Fingon's hand in his hair was igniting. "Yes--no--I mean--I want to be for your pleasure, please. Nothing could please me more. I want--just want to be yours." He grabbed Fingon and kissed him, responding with all his strength before reining it in, peppering small kissed across his neck and shoulders. "Please, Findekáno, take me, I--" I'm not good at begging. Make me beg. "I need you to--to rule me. Would you? Would you even want to?"

“Venno.” Fingon’s voice was hushed, awed, and he poured warmth and love, acceptance and reassurance through their bond. “Don’t you-- don’t you know that’s how I feel about you all the time? How I want things from you that I can’t imagine liking or desiring with anyone else.” He yanked Maedhros’ face down, bringing their mouths together roughly. I love you. I love thee. “Tell me I’m your boy,” he demanded again when he pulled back. His hand twisted the hair against Maedhros’ scalp. “Beg me to take you somewhere-- the bedroom or a sitting room, or else I will have thee on thy knees in the hall.” He imagined that for a moment, standing there in the open with Maedhros kneeling before him, face pressed against his open trousers.

Maedhros whimpered, knees trembling, and he almost lost his grip on Fingon. "My boy. My love," he gasped. "If you are my boy, then I am your doll." He gulped. "Take me here. Right now. Just here--or wherever you want me. Want to please you. Want to feel you happy, want to ache for you and need you. Please, Fin, my boy?"

“Good. So perfect, Russandoll. On your knees for me, and hands behind your back.” Maedhros started to lower himself and Fingon grabbed his arm. “Wait-- another kiss. I want my mouth on yours first, beloved.” He held Maedhros’ chin and took his mouth firmly, possessively, tongue tracing the contours of that entrance into his husband’s hröa. “Good. Thank you. Now-- kneel for me.” He helped steady his husband as he dropped to the floor, then he smiled at Maedhros, petting his head softly. “I think you can figure out what to do from here. Remember, no hands.”

Whining gently, more with need and urgency than displeasure (he was anything but displeased), Maedhros dropped to his knees with a thunk and clasped his hands behind his back. Fingon's trousers were still up, but Maedhros wasted no time in pressing forward, jaw unhinged, to mouth along the soft material with Fingon's sex, hard and strongly scented, teasing beneath. He made a noise of frustration as Fingon made no move to help him, and took the ties in his teeth and pulled, loosening them until he could grab the hem of the garment with his teeth and pull his sleeping trousers down. Like this? he asked, Is this good?

"Lovely. Amazing," Fingon gasped. What a sight you make, my prince, flushed and on your knees in the middle of the hall. And so hard- I can see you through your trousers, meldanya. You look beautiful. Ravishing. Give me more of your mouth, please. You said you wished to pleasure me, so please do. His hands were gentle in Maedhros' hair and playing over his shoulders, and even as he sank into Maedhros' heat he groaned at light rubbing but not enough pressure against his husband's arousal as Maedhros' moved.

Maedhros tried not to focus on his aching arousal or how he could just move against Fingon's leg without shifting too much, instead taking Fingon in his mouth and focusing only on that, holding him gently with his wriggling tongue, and moaning, moaning his own pleasure at the taste, at the picture they surely made, at how wonderful it was to be on his knees for his husband, just tasting him, feeling his pleasure thrumming through him like happiness was a smell or a food or something you could get inside you. He shivered, slightly, and closed his lips, and swallowed once before working into a gentle, bobbing rhythm, taking him ever deeper.

"Ai! Just there, melda. Good boy. My perfect doll." Fingon began shifting, rocking against Maedhros though he had planned to let his husband determine their movements. "You feel… incredible." Then he was tugging gently at Maedhros' hair, guiding him into a faster rhythm. "Swallow me again-- deeper. There. I'm close, Russ. Can you feel how close? Are you close as well? Don't spend yet, or else I won't let you out of those pants. You'll walk around the house with me, trousers sticking to yourself and remembering how you couldn't wait."

Maedhros definitely whined that time, closing his knees and trying to ignore himself as he swallowed Fingon deeper, surging forward until he gagged but took Fingon all the way, until his nose was pressed against his belly and his scent was overwhelming, his tongue reaching as far back as it would go. He pulled back with a quick gasp before cocking his head, twisting as he sucked him. Want to taste you, please? Guide me, show me what you need from me. Need your seed in me, Fin, please.

“Oh, Valar! Are you doing that on purpose?” Fingon held his scalp in both hands, guiding Maedhros on and off of him in an ever increasing rhythm. “So good.” So beautiful. “Love you on me.” Love your fëa around me. “Want to finish in you.” Want you to finish in me until I’m overflowing, until I’m marked forever as your own. “Come on, darling. So good. A little more.” Deeper, doll. “Swallow for me darling, please.” And then Fingon was spending, still dressed and pressed against his husband who swallowed around him with a grateful sound. “Oh, my perfect doll. My perfect, wonderful, Maitimo Russandol. Thank you. Thank you.”

Maedhros gulped and swallowed at the continuing stream, and didn't stop to breathe until it was over, and hen he was gasping, wanting Fingon still in his mouth as he softened, still holding him gently on his tongue. Thank you, he said. Your taste--you--just want--you, always. Please? Now he remembered his own arousal, and shifted uncomfortably, eyes meeting Fingon's in question, though his mouth was still full.

“Trying to get rid of me already?” Fingon asked lightly. He brought a hand forward, tracing Maedhros’ lips where they met Fingon’s skin. “Stunning. You’re a work of art darling. Very well, I suppose since you’ve pleased me so well.” He guided Maedhros to his feet. “The bedroom, I think. We never quite got to use our fort. Let’s remake it a little to fit two people again, and get the going-- the air’s still damp and we wouldn’t want to catch a chill. Then perhaps a couple of glasses of water, and after that we’ll see to your needs.” He stroked along Maedhros briefly before retreating to take his husband’s hand. “And if you don’t want to do something-- all you need do it think that, or ask to do something else. Telperion, Laurelin, a shout along our bond… anything. I would rather hurt myself than you, and if you’re uncomfortable it will give me no pleasure. Alright?” He squeezed Maedhros’ hand and tugged him forward, towards their room.

Maedhros nodded, groaning as Fingon pulled him to his feet. Well, of course he didn't want to do all that as hard as he was--but he desperately wanted to do what he didn't want to do for Fingon, which made sense if he didn't think about it too much. Anyway, he was already following along behind him meekly, but "I'll let you know," he promised, his voice slightly raw. He had dropped his hands to his sides, but otherwise refrained from touching his obvious arousal. Walking was more complicated than it needed to be, but he managed it, forgetting immediately what he was supposed to be doing once they reached their room.

After pulling Maedhros into the room, Fingon stepped back and slid behind his husband, arms wrapping around his waist. "The floor, right? We need to fix up our fort, and change the sheets on the bed. Glasses of water, resurrect the fire, and then you. Deal?" He squeezed Maedhros' waist, but he stepped away without so much as brushing against his arousal. You can do this, Russ. You're strong and wonderful and your fëa is so powerful, so very bright. We can do this.

"Yes," Maedhros said, focusing on the tasks before him. He tucked in two corners and rearranged a few pillows hurriedly before "Can in go get the water?" He asked, impatient.

"Please do. And can you make sure the towels are hanging in there? Amrod was running about with at least one earlier." He directed Maedhros lightly, knowing his husband would start picking up anyway but wanting to give Maedhros the direction and guidance he desired. "Hurry up while I change the sheets and whoever finishes first- not like that!- can get the fire." He laughed, grabbing Maedhros' arm and tugging him into a soft, lazy kiss. "Have I told you how very much I love you, today? I do, you know. Tyë melin my Russandol, my husband, my light and my world."

Maedhros smiled shyly, and nodded, the kiss tempting but not making him any harder than he already was, for which he was grateful. "I'll be right back," he said, scurrying (yes, a grown Elda, with a hard-on, scurrying) to the kitchen and returning with two glasses of water and a towel draped over his arm, which he hung up in the washroom, and since Fingon was taking his time, he tossed a few more logs (rather haphazardly, but he was in a hurry) on the fire.

Fingon finished with the bed and moved to stand next it his husband, carrying extra pillows. "Will you lay down for me, darling?" He settled Maedhros on the pillows and blankets. Then he turned away from him to begin fixing the fire, straightening the logs and piling additional pieces of wood to keep it burning. He could feel Maedhros nearly shaking with need behind him and his hröa twitched in mingled interest and sympathy.

Breath hitching, Maedhros lay down on his back, hands at his sides and feeling silly standing at attention like this. "Fin," he said, as Fingon busied himself with the fire. "Please?"

"Just a minute." Fingon paused, wiping his hands off and leaning over to cup Maedhros' cheek and kiss him before returning his attention to the fire. "Do I need to check on the bathroom as well, or did you put things away in there?" He sent a reassuring caress of a thought to Maedhros- you're perfect, just playing, so beautiful. Have you any idea how enticing you are? Love you. Want you.

Maedhros shivered and gulped, arching his back impatiently. "Mm, yes. I cleaned up," he said. I know you like to tease me. I'm okay, only--hurry?

"How can I resist when you beg so prettily?" Fingon leaned over to kiss Maedhros' brow. "I'll be right back and then I'm all yours... Or rather, you're all mine." He shrugged a shoulder. "Same thing, really, don't you agree?" He retreated to the washroom to wash the wood and ash off his hands before he returned to Maedhros who was laid out like an offering before the fire. "Russandol," he breathed. "I would have thee." Then he was stripping out of his trousers and reaching for Maedhros almost without thought.

"Ohh," Maedhros groaned softly, hips twitching, legs falling open, and he licked his lips. "I'm yours," he gasped: "you have me. Take me?" he begged, balling his hands into fists to keep from moving as Fingon touched him. He tried to look inviting, even easy.

"Yes," Fingon hissed. He carefully set the jar of oil beside the fireplace and lowered himself to blanket his husband. "So hard, darling. So ready. Yes, my Doll, easy because it's us- because I'm yours and you're mine." He fumbled, wetting his fingers, and then slid down his husband, taking Maedhros in his mouth as he carefully breached him with his fingers. Valar, you are... I want you so much. Could you feel how I felt just now, seeing you all spread out like that? I ache for you. I burn for you. He swallowed around Maedhros.

"Ahh-ha!" Maedhros cried, limbs electrified as he was inside Fingon while Fingon was inside him. "Oh! Uhnn yes! Yes I feel--" it was dizzying, the open bond, Fingon's feelings and sensations along with his, both needing and wanting, and Maedhros gulped reflexively, forgetting that he wasn't Fingon for a moment. "Please, Fin, may I--? Mmm I want to, want you in m-me." He raised one knee, opening himself up.

Fingon's throat tightened around him as he quickly added a third finger. Russ! Then with a longing swipe of his tongue he was moving up, crawling atop his husband and replacing his fingers with his arousal. "Venno!" Eyes shut in pleasure he unerringly found Maedhros' lips, kissing him urgently. He was awash with Maedhros' urgent need, which flowed across their bond and fed his own desire. "Can't- can't go slow, love. Sorry." He rocked against Maedhros and gripped his lover's hip, urging Maedhros to move with him.

His body ached where Fingon stretched him, but it was a glorious tightness that stole his breath. "Ai, Fin," he gasped, closing his eyes tightly, gripping Fingon's arms even tighter. Maedhros had almost forgotten how to kiss, much less move, but he clumsily moved against Fingon, and his grip loosened, and he kissed him open-mouthed and sloppy.

"Love you. Love you so much, vennonya." Fingon thrust into him again, trembling and groaning against his lips. "Want to take you hard. I want to bury myself so deep in you that you start to think I'm a part of you." He shifted and forced an arm up, fisting Maedhros' hair. He shifted within him and thrust forward uncontrollably when he felt his husband's satisfied moan.

Stomach tightening with every thrust, Maedhros shivered and jerked, helpless in Fingon's hold. He felt pinned by Fingon's sex piercing him, unwilling or afraid to move. And when Fingon gripped his hair like that and pulled, it was all over. "Ai, Fin!" he yelped, back arched, voice pitched high. Oh fuck yes more yes please good good good. His hands grasped for leverage, scrabbling at Fingon's arms and at the floor. "Fuck, yes," he said, unaware of what he said out loud and what he only managed to think. "Good, please, good, fuck," I'm close close close help please I'm gonna may I please?

"Come for me," Fingon managed, his voice deepening to almost a growl. "I want you to paint me, Russ. Want to wear your seed all day. Come on. Come on for me." He yanked Maedhros' head back and bit his husband's neck, worrying the flesh and carefully raising a mark. Please. Want you right now, just like this. Come.

With a cry, Maedhros jerked, limbs flailing as he spent himself, hard, painting between them, mostly on himself, legs hooking around Fingon's as he arched wildly. "Argh, Findekáno!" he shouted, still spending, gripping Fingon tight.

"A-ah! Ah! Ah! Russ!" Fingon pounded into him, pulling Maedhros' legs off him as his husband finished spending. "O-over. Turn. Want you on your knees." He moaned in loss as he pulled out of Maedhros and his forehead fell to his husband's back as he shook. He gripped Maedhros, rolling him and shoving back inside with a near desperate sound. "Close, Doll. Oh, Russ!" This is like coming home. Need this. Need you wet and warm and tight and with me. Thankyouthankyouthankyou.

Maedhros was shaking and couldn't feel most of his body but he managed to move how Fingon wanted him to, and he was tender but as soon as Fingon was in him again he groaned gratefully. It was hard to choose a 'favorite' anything with Fingon, but if he had to pick, this position was best for pure, animalistic, grunting, pain/pleasurable, nerve-center-seeking sex, and Maedhros wasn't sure how much longer he was supposed to remained conscious, much less holding himself up like this. Oh, Fin, love you like this. Love being your doll. Feels so good. He reached behind him to tangle a hand in Fingon's hair.

"Russandol! Oh!" Falling against his husband's back, Fingon continued to piston his hips forward, shaking against his husband. "Valar, Russ! Need to finish." Love you. Love you like this. You'll just stay there and take it, won't you? However long I keep doing this you'll just stay there and take me. Fingon groaned, almost bringing himself to completion with his words. Please, want you tight around me when I finish. Please. Close. Need you. Need your fëa holding me. Please, please, please Russ catch me. For a few minutes there were no thoughts, nothing but moans and gasps and disjointed words and then Fingon was finishing, spilling inside his husband as he begged Maedhros across their bond not to let him go, not to let him slip away.

It took everything in him to obey, but Maedhros tightened around Fingon as he felt him spilling in him, felt the hot wetness warm him, and he gasped as his body managed it, and he clenched his fists and curled his toes and Oh Dear Eru this was--there were no words. White blanketed his vision, and he squeaked and gasped, trying not to move. He didn't want to move.

"Doll," Fingon whispered when he could speak again. He panted, resting his cheek on his husband's sweaty back. "I love thee. You are incredible. You are perfect. Feels so good inside you." I never want to leave, except to let you inside me. "Mmm. How do you feel? Are you… I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Maedhros shook his head. "No, never. Feels--wwonderful," he said, slow and moaning, like he was singing, but badly. He panted in shuddering breaths, every once in a while a contented squeak escaping. "Ththank you."

Fingon let out a huff of laughter against Maedhros' shoulder. "Any time," he whispered. "You're very welcome. I love you." He turned his head, planting a line of kisses along his husband's skin. "Thank you. I love you, vennonya, my Russandol. And I am yours, tenn' ambar metta." After a time his breathing calmed and his heartbeat slowed and they eased themselves onto the soft, blanket strewn floor. "I love you."

"Love you," Maedhros said. He liked this more than words could say: he liked being open for Fingon, belonging to Fingon, making Fingon happy, and he liked Fingon leading him, he liked not having to think or decide or be strong or do anything but what Fingon asked or demanded of him. He liked that nothing else mattered. He was floating on it, comfortable and at peace, trusting. Full, complete trust, his fëa as open as his hröa.

“I love you twice as much as you love me, and then lots more,” Fingon said, adopting the sing song tone of a childhood game he’d played with his best friend. He relaxed, moving to embracing his husband as they lay quietly. “This,” he whispered, “this is union. This is harmony and bliss and love- all the things we are told are reflections of Eru. I love you so much. And you make me so very happy.” He squeezed Maedhros, feeling like he could sink into his husband’s skin and become one with him, if only for a few minutes.

Maedhros hummed in agreement, and they lay there in the blankets in their fort for a long time, content with just each other. Maedhros could have lain there all day, but he wanted to kiss Fingon, and for now settled for kissing a lock of his hair, once he could move. "Fin?" he asked in a shy voice, cheeks already warm. "I like it sometimes when you maybe tell me what to do a bit. Um. If you wanted to do that more today I would, well, if I'm not too much trouble, I mean, only if you like it, too, I'd like that. Or sometime. Doesn't have to be today." Fingon could read everything in him, he didn't really know why he was bothering to say it out loud.

“I’d like that today, Russ. Only you have to promise that we’ll stop as soon as you want to.” He kissed Maedhros again. “But for now… if you want… I would enjoy guiding you for the day. Perhaps you can… ah… see to my needs and my hröa at first, and later I can pamper you for a while.” He brushed Maedhros’ hair away from where it was clinging to his skin and nuzzled against his husband’s neck. “Does that sound agreeable, melindo?”

Maedhros felt himself relax even further, though he wasn't sure how he could without turning into soup, and purred. Promise. "Very agreeable. Want to spend all day making you happy, and I would be as content as I am now." Fingon's happy fëa felt like treelight caressing and warming his skin, except that it pierced to his heart, and a shiver of delight traveled down his spine.

Fingon was tempted to use this as an opportunity to look after his husband, but he held back the urge. He loved the idea of pampering Russ, of caring for his husband’s every need, but if Maedhros felt as he did perhaps giving his body to Maedhros and guiding him in his ministrations was the best gift he could give. And then, perhaps when Maedhros was guiding him his husband would give him the same guidance. “Good. I’m very glad. And you feel… content. I’m glad you like that. Makes me feel… I didn’t think I could feel any better but it makes me feel perfect.” He kissed Maedhros’ neck again before licking along the curve of his ear. “When we get up, I might just go lie on the bed. Do you think you can hold yourself tight long enough to get the glass toy you made me? We’ll put it in you to keep you ready for me. And then I would enjoy it very much if you found an oil with a nice, soft scent-- something with pine, perhaps-- and… would you massage me like I do you when I’m trying to work every knot out of your hröa from your neck to your ankles and further?” He bit his lip, probing their bond and hoping it was an activity Maedhros would enjoy performing for him as much as he liked doing it for his husband.

Maedhros nodded, tingling and pleasantly aroused by just the thought. "Please," he said, swallowing. "I can--yes--that sounds l-lovely. And I'll hold it in until you get back," he promised, though he squirmed.

“Until I get back? Hmm… do you… I don’t know if it’s even possible, but do you think you could clench tightly enough that you wouldn’t spill any of my gift while you walked and got it yourself?” Fingon’s voice grew quieter as he asked and he rubbed a hand soothingly along Maedhros’ side. “If you don’t think you can, then tell me now and I’ll go find our toy. But if you can… I think I should like to just lie back here by the fire and watch you shuffling around, nice and tight as you try to hold me in.”

"Oh," Maedhros said, his body groaning in protest as he got up on hands and knees. "I could try. But--" here he grinned, "what if I spilled a little?"

“What do you think?” Fingon turned Maedhros’ head and brought their lips together. “We don’t want the room dirty. And would you waste my precious gift?” He pet Maedhros’ hair as he considered the issue. “I suppose you’d have to clean it up. And if you truly wanted to show your appreciation for a gift that you so carelessly discarded, I think you would be on your hands and knees licking up each spilled drop.” He could picture it-- Maedhros retracing his steps on hands and knees, slowly crawling back to Fingon.

Maedhros huffed. Well, he wasn't that loose, though he supposed some might, well, run between his legs. The idea of licking Fingon's seed from the floor made his guts churn with excited arousal, and he felt himself hardening. He stood quickly, walking over to their packs and retrieving the toy quickly. By the time he returned, he could feel some wetness between his legs, but only a little, and he dropped to his knees in front of Fingon, holding it out to him like an offering.

“Hands and knees, arimelda. I want to see how much spilled.” Fingon accepted the toy and watched as Maedhros pressed his hands to the floor. Slowly he sat up and moved behind him, parting his cheeks. Kissing the small of Maedhros’ back reassuringly, he slipped the glass plug in. “Good boy,” he murmured, patting Maedhros’ rear. “But I think you lost some. Well, I can’t have my doll be wandering around all filthy.” He himself was covered with Maedhros’ seed, but still… “Tell me how you’re feeling,” he commanded. Then he lowered his head, licking up the tracks of liquid on his husband’s thighs and following them to their source.

"I--oh!" Maedhros said, hardly expecting a reward for his failure, and groaned, especially when Fingon's tongue twirled around and shifted the glass plug. "Ohh," he said, rocking backwards into Fingon's tongue. "Feel--full--" he gasped, answering dutifully, "stretched open and stuffed full at the same time. Mm. Hard. Again. Already. Yours."

Mine, Fingon thought happily as he sucked on the base of the plug. I like you hard and needy. And I like taking care of your need. Hmm, I think I could get used to this.” He pulled off, slapping Maedhros’ rear gently. “All clean, doll. Now… I think I was going to get a massage. Shall we do it here by the fire? Otherwise you’ll need to carry me to bed.”

"I could carry you," Maedhros offered, probably sounding over-eager. "Want you comfortable." When he moved, his breath hitched as the plug moved inside him, but he ignored it as he lifted Fingon and laid him on the bed. He chose rosemary scented oil and waved it in front of Fingon's nose. "Does this please you?" he asked. "And front or back first?"

“Back,” Fingon whispered, already feeling relaxed and loved. “Smells very nice.” He rolled onto his stomach and stretched out, presenting himself to Maedhros. “Thank you. And I’m really sorry if I fall asleep. Please wake me if I do- I don’t want to miss my day of guiding you.”

"I would just curl around you and sleep with you," Maedhros promised, kissing the back of his neck and pouring oil on his hands, "aching for you and awaiting your pleasure." He grinned at the thought, knowing (hoping) Fingon wouldn't actually fall asleep. Every time he moved, the plug shifted against him in all the most torturously delicious ways, and he groaned and gasped softly as he worked Fingon's muscles. Fingon was really the easiest person to massage, for he was always loose and fleshy: it was something like massaging a puppy.

Fingon mumbled happily, soft sounds and sighs escaping. Maedhros hands were perfect on his skin, and could feel every time the plug shifted in his husband. Their bond kept sending small fissures of pleasure through him. Feels good. Nice. Limp and stretchy. Love you. “Talk to me,” Fingon requested quietly. “I like hearing your voice.”

"I, um," Maedhros said, clearing his throat. "I didn't used to like this, you know. I didn't think I could. You have changed me, made me grow. I like that. And I like--this--" He coughed nervously, wondering if this was an acceptable topic of discussion. "I like to--sometimes I'm afraid to let go. I like to be in control of everything. But I trust you. Also--" he bit his lip to keep from grinning too broadly. "Also I, um, well you know I like the kinky stuff. I should talk about something else," he said suddenly, pouring more oil on his hands.

“I think I rather like this topic,” Fingon countered. “Unless you’ll be too embarrassed to keep going.” He reached a hand up to squeeze Maedhros’ thigh before falling back against the sheets. “Keep telling me about what you like between us, and how you feel.”

"I like serving you," Maedhros said. "And I rather like suffering for you." Putting it into words made him feel silly at best or depraved at worst, but he wanted to do this because Fingon wanted it. He squirmed again. "I like to be yours, as much as I like to make you mine. When I get--possessive--rough--I like it when you're the same with me." He shrugged. "Of course, ultimately, I just like you."

"Same here." Fingon groaned as Maedhros' hands dug into a persistent knot. "Love being your boy. Love having you as my doll. But mostly I just like us being us. Calling you vennonya today, before our family, was... it was everything I want in life. To join our families and to have everyone happy and friendly. And to be together tenn' ambar metta." Fingon fell silent, letting Maedhros work on another knot before he spoke again. "You said like everything we do... but will you tell me a few of your favorite things that we've done? Or some highlights?"

"I, ah. Our first time," he said. "I will always remember that as the best thing we have ever done. Ah. My first time. On our mountain." It was hard not to think of comparable situations to this. "I liked chasing and catching you and all that, until I hurt you." His face darkened at the memory, and he stopped.

"Didn't hurt me. I hurt myself," Fingon grunted. He lifted his head to look at Maedhros, but soon flopped back down, loose and limp from his husband's thorough hands. "We'll have to do that again sometime... With a no cheating rule!" I liked it too you know. Not being confused or tripping, but the rest-- I really liked all of that. And our bonding and the peak. And the first time we kissed and the first time we went to the cabin. And all our library moments!

Maedhros smiled, groaned as his body puckered instinctively, pulling the toy deeper inside him. "Yes," was all he could manage, his need very apparent now, as he tried not to think of anything that would make him more aroused, and shook his head, like a young horse uncomfortable with a bridle.

The movement jumped between them, Fingon shifting in need, torn between his loose limbs and insistent arousal. "Almost, ungh! Almost ready to do my front?" At the end... You could just sink down on top of me. I want you to ride me, Russ. He could see it in his mind's eye. Maedhros would sit tall and proud atop him, head thrown back in ecstasy exposing the graceful line of his neck. Red locks damp with sweat would sway behind him every time he shifted or Fingon thrust up into him. My doll, perfect in form, beyond perfect in fëa. Prized Maitimo, beloved friend, prince of the Noldor.

"Ahh--uuh-huh," Maedhros nodded, wanting this, desiring this, excited about this. "Please," he gasped, turning Fingon over and massaging his shoulders and chest--well, urgently, if not impatiently. He trailed his hands down chest and belly, over his rising sex, rubbing gently before he massaged his legs.

"Ooh!" Fingon's breath hitched and he couldn't move, could barely think. Every inch of his body was buzzing pleasantly and still felt phantom remnants of his husband's touches. S'good. Perfect. Love you. Need you. "Ah, Russss." He idly wondered if he should feel bad about lying here doing nothing, but instantly Maedhros' fëa was around him, holding him, and his husband was so blissfully happy that Fingon moaned in shared pleasure.

Maedhros finished with Fingon's feet, and stayed there, alternating gentle and firm touches, while all the time his arousal remained, even when he wasn't moving the toy was...insistent. A reminder. In case Fingon's body laid out before him wasn't enough. "Findekáno," he whispered. "Please?"

"Mhmm." Fingon blinked and looked down at him. "'m ready. But I don't want to move. Come up here?"

Maedhros nodded, crawling up Fingon's body until he covered an inch above his face. "May I kiss you?" he breathed, already rutting shallowly against him.

"Yes. Now!" Fingon raised his head impatiently, desperate for his husband's lips, his touch, his curtain of bright hair. Please, venno. I need you. This is driving me mad too. Are you almost ready? May I take you again? Well, have you ride me- that's what I mean.

Maedhros crashed their lips together like a starving wolf. "Ai, Findekáno," he groaned, sliding against him. "Will you--mm--take--it--out of me?" he asked, kissing him again, kissing his neck and shoulders and grabbing his hair.

"Yes. Oh, yes, my Maitimo Russandol, my precious one." Fingon shifted, burying one hand in Maedhros' hair to guide him, his other slipping down to play with the base of the plug. He tugged on it lightly before pulling it partway out, only to press in firmly back in. He moaned lowly at the thought of that tight, gripping heat. "Tell me." he growled. "Tell me what you feel- how this feels." He pulled on it again, adding a twist as he thrust the object back inside.

"Ah!" he cried, whimpered, even, his whole body shuddering at the mercy of this toy and Fingon's hold on him. "Ahh. Uhh. Feels. Good. Don't mm stop. Please need to need you please," he groaned, dizzy with desire and wondering how he was going to survive a day of pleasure overload like this. He was rutting against Fingon like some sort of animal.

"You... Only you. Always you." Fingon dragged him down for another kiss. "You're everything I ever wanted. And you are stunning like this. Thank you. Tyë melin." He played with the plug for another minute before gently removing it. He cupped Maedhros' flushed cheek. "Valar, Russ, you're almost crying. Come on, lift up- I want to be inside you now."

Maedhros shook his head, unaware that his emotional state was translating physically. Not sad, he insisted. Love you. Beautiful. All breath, all thought was taken from him when Fingon finally pulled the toy free, and he scrambled to position himself. Sliding down that hot slick member was like a soothing balm. He was home. He could breathe again.

Fingon threw his head back, undone by hot tight loving Russandol. He still had a hand in his husband's hair and he gripped his waist with the other as he keened. He couldn't see Russ but this time it was okay, as their bond was stretched wide, pleasure and trust and love cycling back and forth between them. He opened himself, fëa embracing Maedhros and holding him within ever as Maedhros' hröa held his. "L-love- oh! Love you! Russ! Russandol!" Oh please more perfect, yes home yours mine please love you need you want forever.

"Fffuuuhh--" Maedhros said, his legs already shaking as he rocked up and down on Fingon. "Love you. Love you. Thank you." He felt full and hot and dizzy and very much in love. Every time he moved he felt Fingon strike a place inside him that had him seeing stars.

"Russ," Fingon grunted, brow furrowing. Love you, my prince, my everything. He waited until Maedhros rose up again and then, as his husband moved down, he thrust up against him, and they both moaned at the sensation. He felt loose and tight, relaxed from the massage but oh so desperate for this, for his husband. He opened his eyes, locking gazes with Maedhros, and their perspectives began to flicker. He was thrusting up and sinking down, sitting up and lying back. Russ, perfect Russ, want to see you spend. I want to see you paint yourself and feel you tighten around me. So close, love. Are you… are your ready? He moved, hands rubbing up Maedhros' and stomach and check, squeezing his shoulders and tugging him back for a kiss, then tangling in his damp hair and twisting.

Ready? Maedhros asked, rocking up and down. Always. Need you. Love you. Feel so good. "Findekáno!" He cried. "Close, so close, May I?" Everything was fast and hot and desperate.

"Please, Russ!" Fingon groaned and trembled and swiped a hand down his stomach, still slick with oil. He grasped Maedhros carefully and began a fast rhythm of strokes, trying to keep time with their movements together. "Want you to finish for me. Please, doll. Please vennonya. With me. Close!" He raced over the edge soon after he finished speaking, desperately trying to bring his husband with him, to be joined through their completion as they had been in their desire. His back arched off the bed, and he yanked Maedhros down, or himself up, reaching desperately for his husband's lips.

"Oh, fuck!" Maedhros cried, coming undone at once, spending across Fingon's chest.

Fingon shouted and clutched Maedhros to him desperately as he stroked his husband through his completion. Maedhros was shifting above him, and when he tightened around Fingon it was excruciatingly pleasurable and thought stopping in its power. “Russandol,” he panted as they came down from their high. “That was… I lack the words. Thank you. I love you. Thank you.” He pet Maedhros as his husband relaxed on top of him, fingers working idly at the tangles in his hair. They would need to shower later-- that was the only way he could imagine combing it out without damaging it. At the moment, however, he was loath to move more than his hands. He sighed in pleasure, happy to hold his husband close and rest.

Maedhros fell forward onto Fingon's chest, gasping, feeling loose and tight all at once. "Love you, Fin--Fin, where am I?" He wondered. "I don't want to go."

"Home." Fingon smiled, caressing Maedhros and tilting his head to kiss the corner of his husband's mouth. "We're home. And we don't have to go anywhere- as you are mine, I am yours."

"Oh good," Maedhros said, burying his face in the crook of Fingon's neck like he wanted to sleep more. "Like it here."

“I thought I was the one meant to be out of it.” Fingon laughed quietly. Kissing Maedhros’ brow, he relaxed and resettled, legs shifting half an inch on the mattress. “Sleep if you wish, or rest. I’ll keep watch over you, precious prince. I am yours, hröa and fëa, and I love you.”

There was one thing Maedhros expected to feel but definitely didn't feel. He was somehow supposed to (why "supposed"? by whose rules?) feel embarrassed: for "debasing" himself as he had, for his wantonness, for his colorful, unsolicited confessions. His former self at one time would have been shocked to ever think he would find himself in such a position.

But he wasn't. Not even a little. This was right and natural and Fingon was so good to him and yes Fingon was just as happy as he was and he was home. Not in this house but with Fingon, home. His only concern was with staying here, holding on to this moment as long as he could.

"Fin," he said, suddenly worried, "s'gonna leak." He pouted, unable to tighten enough to keep Fingon's seed inside him, where he wanted it.

Fingon hummed lightly and slid two fingers into him. He kissed Maedhros' pout with a small smile, loving having his husband so trusting and open and unrestrained. "It'll have to sometime. If we take a rest now, then I get to open you up again later. Does that sound good?" Fingon played with his entrance, pushing drops back in for several minutes. Eventually he grinned and pushed on Maedhros' shoulders, urging his husband to raise himself up while Fingon slowly slid out from under him, limbs feeling liquid and barely controllable. He urged his legs apart and settled between them. "So messy, doll," Fingon murmured as he surveyed the results from behind his husband. "It's going to take a lot of work to keep you clean, isn't it?" He licked at the escaping liquid, tongue lingering along Maedhros' skin, which had grown salty with sweat.

"Oh," Maedhros moaned, lightly twitching, toes and fingers curling and uncurling. "Yes, I mean--no? Feels ohh so good." He shifted slightly against the blankets, somehow after all that needing more.

I could do this forever, arimelda. You smell like us, sound beautiful, look... effervescent. His tongue traced around Maedhros' loose entrance before dipping in. You make me very happy. Fingon settled in, relaxing and enjoying his task. He moaned softly when his husband moved under him, and grabbed one of Maedhros' hands, squeezing it contentedly as he continued to work.

"Oh, Findekáno!" Maedhros whined, dizzy and floating and held down only by Fingon's hand holding his. He yelped and whimpered at the teasing, hardening again already, sure he wasn't going to survive this. "Fin please oh Eru," he begged, writhing as much from the sensations as from the idea of what was happening to him.

Maedhros' skin was golden in the firelight, and Fingon pulled back just to look at him. "Tyë melin, melindo." He nipped at a fleshy cheek before returning to licking at his husband's entrance. Tell me what you would have me do, Maitimo Russandol. Right now my greatest desire is to please you, to keep you making those sounds. They drive me out of my mind- did you know that? He licked a long stripe along Maedhros. Can I kiss you in a little while? Stick my fingers in you while you're loose and sloppy and kiss you with a mouth that still tastes of my seed?

"Ah, fuck," Maedhros cried, bucking in earnest. He lifted himself up on shaking knees and elbows, needing more or needing to get away. "Just--keep doing--yes--" he gasped, and gulped, shaking his head as if to clear it of some enchantment. "Findekáno kiss me, please," he whined.

Letting go of Maedhros' hand, Fingon turned over and squirmed up between Maedhros' legs until he lay under him and could grab him by the hair. He pulled his husband firmly, but not unkindly, downward until he could brush his mouth against those perfect lips, stealing Maedhros' breath and sharing their combined taste. He grinned up at Maedhros and snuck a hand down to hold his arousal before sneaking his fingers back further and slipping inside. "Have I told thee how very much I love thee today?" His met his gaze with dilated pupils, tongue darting out to trace his lips before pulling their mouths together again.

Maedhros was shaking, shaking, like he might rattle apart, and sweating. He couldn't believe he needed to come again, so soon and so very urgently. "Yes," he managed to gasp out, leaning in for another desperate kiss. "Yes, you said, but I like to hear it." He was near tears again, but didn't know why. "Ah, Fin, you undo me!"

"Good." Fingon surveyed his husband as well as he could from his current position. "Now, I like my hand in your hair, and I'm not going to remove my fingers from your hot, wet, loose hole. Instead, I want you to lower yourself a little more and brace yourself on one forearm." He met Maedhros' gaze. "I want your other hand wrapped around your cock and stroking. I want to see you spend across me when I demand it, and to prepare for that you need to bring yourself close to finishing." He paused to indulge in a slow, languid kiss. "Can you be very good, doll, and do that for me?"

Maedhros whimpered, nodding dizzily. He was already so close he could taste it, but he wanted Fingon to play with him, to play him like he played the harp so sweetly, and to be wholly his. "Yes, yes!" he panted, bracing his limbs and wrapping his right hand around himself, stroking quickly. "’Mvery close," he murmured.

"You're very, very good for me, beloved." Fingon kissed his cheeks and his brow and nose. "I’m proud of you. Not quite ready for you to spend, but I'm very proud of you." Fingon's fingers worked closer against Maedhros' skull, massaging the back of his head gently. "You're lovely. Will you whine for me after you've been right on the edge for a while? Will you scream for me when you come?" He trailed kiss against his husband's jaw before pulling back to look at him, flushed and aroused and overstimulated, verging on desperate again. "Right now I want you to do something else for me. I want you to focus on our bond, Russ. I want you to look through my eyes, and see yourself as I'm seeing you. Will you do that for me? I want you to do that now, doll."

Maedhros had to focus to clear his head, hand pausing, and he gave an inhuman grunt, and a whimper. "Ai, Fin," he complained. I must look silly. But he focused on their bond, latching on and pressing close, turning inside out as he saw himself through Fingon's eyes--sweating, shaking, yes, his red hair like liquid fire over his shoulders, and his eyes wild. But since he looked through Fingon's eyes, he looked beautiful.

You are beautiful, Fingon assured him. He buried his face in Maedhros' neck and held him close. "You're the only one who doesn't always see it." He kissed Maedhros' neck and delighted in the smell of him and his warmth and solid presence. Like you're the whole world, Fingon thought. You are my world, my light, my everything. Love you. He rutted against the hips above him, his own desire growing as they played and as Maedhros drew close. "Let--ungh-- let go of yourself, beloved. Want you to hold both of us. Want you to bring us over the edge together."

"Yeah, yes," Maedhros said, adjusting his grip obediently. "As you're mine," he growled. "Findekáno, love you, need you." He came out of Fingon's eyes to watch Fingon, but he was blurred somehow, surrounded by a halo of light. "Thank yyou oh fuck Fin let me come, please!"

"With me," Fingon demanded. He lowered his hand slightly, holding Maedhros by the back of his neck. "Close, Russ. Valar-- just listening to you, seeing you… I barely need to be touched." He panted, hips thrusting up as Maedhros stroked them together. "You'll do something for me-- you'll see yourself as I see you again, and let me see myself as you see me, back and forth as we finished. Will you do this for me? If you will, if you're ready, then I want you to take us to completion. Guide us, guide me. I want your voice and your hand and your strength and your heart. And your lips on mine right now, before the end begins. Kiss me," he begged. "Please, darling. Please my beloved husband."

"With you," Maedhros promised before kissing him, plunging his tongue down Fingon's throat as he plunged his fëa into Fingon's. The back of his neck was warm with Fingon's hand, and for a moment he was entirely disoriented, forgetting what his hand was supposed to be doing, before he saw himself, shining and desperate and marked clearly as FINGON'S, and he remembered. Come for me, come with me, Fin. He broke this kiss just long enough to beg: "Please, Fin, now!"

Fingon shuddered, forgetting for a moment how to speak. Now, yes "please now!" It took all the control he could manage to keep his eyes open and locked on Maedhros, sharing his view of his husband above him, and stealing glances of himself. He blushed at how Maedhros saw him, and shook his head slightly, unable to believe he could compare to his lover. "You're perfect. Please… keep going. More, Russ," he begged. His hand tightened around Maedhros' throat, then slid to the front and squeezed. He liked it when Maedhros did this to him, when he suddenly couldn't breath and was a little dizzy as well as so aroused, and now he could feel it happening to his lover and he never wanted to stop being with Maedhros, joining with him, holding their bond wide open and delving into each other's fëar as though they belonged there. Love you, love you, love you, thank you. Russ. Perfect precious Russ. I adore thee. I cherish thee. I always want thee.

Maedhros had a list of things he saw in Fingon that he wanted to mention, but of course Fingon could see/all of that, and also he was too far gone to say anything. Everything was glorious and perfect: Fingon's hand in him and around his throat, Fingon's breath and words and warmth, and before he could help himself he twisted and pressed them together until they were crying out in tandem and tumbling over the edge of bliss.

Everything was bright, and sparks of light were shooting around them, or perhaps it was only his vision, or rather Maedhros’. Fingon gasped and shouted, hoping his voice carried out of the house and all the way across the valley and into the air. He wanted to be heard, wanted the world to know how good his husband was, how Maedhros’ could undo him completely. And he arched, hröa insistently trying to get closer to Maedhros. Tyë melin. Tyë melin tenn’ ambar metta. “Russandol!”

Maedhros was screaming Fingon's name at the very top of his lungs, surprising himself with his volume, and he only heard because he was borrowing Fingon's ears to hear himself. Everything was pleasure and white and hot and loud and wonderful and Fingon, and he was sucked back into himself only at the end to ride the high, the waves after waves of crashing pleasure that brought him low. He lost strength in every part of him and collapsed, gasping for air like he had never tasted it.

Fingon let out a small ‘oof’ as Maedhros landed on him. He grinned, carefully removing his fingers from his husband and holding him. As his own breathing settled he rocked them a minute amount, humming pieces of their song. You were perfect, he told Maedhros silently. Thank you so much for that, for letting me choose that and for making it more than I ever expected. You make me feel so loved, so important and beautiful and good. Thank you, my Russandoll, my lord and prince, dearest love and best friend.

Maedhros could barely move, but he shook his head. Thank you. You are my guiding star, my home, my love. Thank you for holding me, for protecting me, for ordering me, for making me yours. Love you. Thank you, the source of my strength and my purpose for being. He lay there a moment longer, content, until he realized where they were. "Oh. Do you want me off?" He might just have enough strength to roll over, in a few minutes.

“Nuh uh.” Fingon’s arms tightened even as his heart soared at Maedhros’ earlier words. “Feels good. Grounding. Nice. Like I’m yours. Like my hröa is making you comfortable, is pleasing you even without doing anything.” He turned his head to press his lips against Maedhros. “Do you think the rain’s stopped? We could go for a walk later if you’d like.” Inside our valley is probably safe, but I suppose we’ll have to at least bring clothes if we plan on walking the heights and surveying some of the surrounding areas.” Maybe just a short walk today? He winked. I’ll wear my not there garments for you.

Maedhros was about to say he wasn't sure he could ever walk again, but the picture of Fingon in his sheer garments settled it. "Oh, yes, please," he said, lifting his head. "And we should find this alleged pool we have. Play Elda and merelda," he said, half-joking, and laughed, and kissed Fingon. Thank you. I love you.

“Too soon!” With a small yelp Fingon shifted under Maedhros. I like that idea. A little too much, right now. “Yes, we should visit the pool. And take a bath later-- I’m afraid your hair’s gotten painfully tangled today.”

"I don't mind. You can pull on it any time," Maedhros said, smiling as his head dropped to rest on Fingon's chest again. "Mm, love you," he said, hugging him close.

“Love you, too.” Fingon grinned, petting Maedhros without trying to untangle his knotted hair. “Well… yesterday was unexpected. I did enjoy seeing the twins, though I wish the reasons for their arrival had been different. And I’m really, really liking how today has gone so far. Do you have any suggestions for what else we should add to our plans for the day?”

Maedhros shrugged and shook his head. "I, er--" he smiled shyly, burying his face in Fingon's chest. "I like it when you decide. If you don't mind? I would like to do anything, so long as it is with you and what you want to do. I guess I'd prefer to be clean, unless you'd like me dirty," he added with a giggle.

“We’ll take a shower before we go for our walk,” Fingon promised quickly. “And after our bath we can work on each other’s hair while we sit in front of the fire. Perhaps while we’re there we can work on more of our merelda story.” Fingon grinned and squeezed Maedhros. “I like creating things with you. Even stories about a merelda and his Elda love.”

"Yes," Maedhros said, hands smoothing over Fingon's skin. "Yes, me too. I like our story. The merelda is so gentle and loving, and--or so I imagine--lithe and long and strong." He kissed Fingon's chin and chest. "We haven't seen the forge yet, either."

Fingon trembled. “I think your stamina may be far greater than mine if you’re already thinking of the forge.” He clung to Maedhros, feeling dizzy. “That’s going to be… an entire world of pleasures and incredible gifts for us.” He shook himself. “Lunch first, though, once we wash off. Do you want to reheat some of yesterday’s soup? I can make another salad to go with it.”

Maedhros nodded. "Sounds lovely." He shrugged. "We don't have to go to the forge today. I want to do whatever you want." He rolled slightly, hugging Fingon around his middle. "I just love you so much. I get dizzy when I think about it."

Fingon laughed. "Me too! I love you very, very much. So much it would feel scary, except it's you and me so it just feels right." He kissed Maedhros. "Perhaps we'll make it into the forge in a while, or we can make a day of it soon. I just... need to not be thinking about taking you over an anvil or about you laying me on the worktable and climbing over me to have me then and there. Not when my hröa's this wrung out." He shrugged and blushed and kissed his husband.

Maedhros flushed and nodded. "Yes, erm, when I can walk I'll carry you to the kitchen?" He offered, now regretting making Fingon do all the work.

"You're spoiling me," Fingon said fondly. "But yes, that sounds wonderful. Thank you for taking care of me. You like those ideas? I think we'll have to... Ah, break in every part of the crafting hall, just like we're working our way through every room in the house." He gave his husband a lazy grin.

Maedhros grinned back. "Oh no. It is you who are spoiling me," Maedhros corrected. "And I'm feeling very well broken in already, but I agree."

"We'll spoil each other, then." Fingon snuggled close and let out a sigh. "Ready to head over to the shower?"

Maedhros sighed. "Maybe?" He gave his legs an experimental kick: he ached, but he felt he could move. He was also perishingly thirsty. "May I carry you?"

"As long as you don't hurt yourself." I don't want you to be in pain or to injure yourself by pushing too far too fast. He brushed their lips together. It's been quite a morning! A very good one, and intense. You're amazing, you know.

"I won't," Maedhros said, getting to his knees and gathering Fingon into his arms. Want to struggle for you, he reminded him softly. Want it to mean something when I give to you. He kissed Fingon's cheek and stood shakily, carrying them into the washroom.

Fingon sighed and snuggled into Maedhros' arms, trusting that no matter what his husband would not drop him. "Thank you. I love you." He let Maedhros start the water and take out soaps and shampoo and towels. "Are you going to carry me right into the spray?"

"We're going to warm up the bath. I can't possibly hold you up in the shower, much less myself," Maedhros chuckled as he turned on the waterfall.

"Sorry. Okay. May we have bubbles?" He relaxed in Maedhros' arms, staring up at the ceiling while his husband continued preparing.

"Of course bubbles," Maedhros said, already adding them. "What else, my darling husband?" He filled a cup of cold water and gulped it down before bringing water to Fingon.

Fingon sat up on the towel and accepted the water gratefully. “Thanks, Russ.” He downed the glass almost in one continuous drink. As he finished he licked his lips, watching Maedhros who was waiting patiently for the bath to fill. “Will you get me another, please?” He held out the glass.

Maedhros nodded, standing again with a groan. He wanted more water, anyway, and when he returned to the faucet, he gulped another down before returning to Fingon.

“Thanks, Russandol.” Fingon drank the second glass slowly, relaxing and enjoying the slow built up of steam above the water. “’m ready to get in Russ,” Fingon lay back, sprawling across the towel. “Is the bath almost ready?”

"Yes, we can get in," Maedhros said, helping Fingon to slide in. "Not too hot?" He asked, adjusting the taps. Once Fingon was settled: "Permission to join your highness?"

“Please do, dear prince.” Fingon’s eyes danced. “My shining star. My beloved.” He winked at Maedhros. “Then you can hold me again, if you’d like. And you can wash my hair and I’ll wash yours.”

Maedhros slid across to hold him immediately, grinning like the cat who got the cream. "There, now I'm happy," he said, nuzzling him.

“Me too. And comfy. I like being in the water with you.” He grinned and kissed Maedhros’ chin. “It makes me think of the lake in our valley- our own private Cuivienen.” Though there we did not awake and look up at the stars. There we found each other in a new way and become surrounded by stars, covered in raiment of stars…” They reminisced quietly. “Of course, I suppose this is more like the hot spring you found there. That was glorious. Especially after our… our bonding night. Oh! Our merelda and his love need hot springs to relax in! And some waterfalls. If you agree.”

"Oh, yes," Maedhros hummed. "I remember. And how else will our merelda keep his helpless Elda warm? After a storm, and the light of the trees may not reach them if they are far from Valinor.

Fingon frowned at the thought. He held Maedhros closer, speaking slowly. “We’ve always had the light of the Aldu-- since before I was born. I… I don’t like the idea of so much of Arda never having such light. I love the stars-- don’t get me wrong- and I love seeing the stars in our Cuivienen when the light barely passes over the mountains and the land’s shadows release their myriad lights. I just…” He shook his head, dispelling a difficult train of thought, one that caused a small ache in his chest. “Well, our Elda will take his husband to Tirion eventually, right? He’ll have to introduce him to the bright light of the parts of Aman and the sea that are near to Valinor. Perhaps they can spend some time near Alqualonde where the light reaches the long pearl strewn beaches. We should go there sometime and find the perfect coves for our lovers to explore.”

Maedhros agreed, and would have continued if Fingon hadn't desired to avoid this topic. He squeezed him. "Yes, he'll take his merelda to Tírion, and we'll to Alqualondë to scout settings." He grinned, "We'll have to come up with an excuse to visit our cousins. When's the swimming contest?"

“Three months away. Well, a little less now- I suppose I haven’t been paying attention to the date since our wedding.” Fingon grinned. “I’ve been too busy enjoying myself and focusing on us. Shall we attend? Do you know if Turko is competing again? I’ve assumed he’s planning to, but I don’t think I’ve heard him confirm it for this year.”

"I think it would be a nice cover for our sightseeing for our book," Maedhros said. "And I'm sure Turko's entering. I heard Irissë was, for the first time, this year. So I very much doubt my brother will miss it. And we'll be obliged to go, to keep an eye on them," he pointed out.

“Ah, a perfect excuse to attend. And do you know how much they will love us if we wander off for a while?” Fingon giggled at the expression Maedhros made.

Maedhros growled, pinching Fingon's rear. "We'll have to watch them in shifts. They're too young."

Fingon blushed and locked his legs around Maedhros’ waist, supported by the water. “Too late,” he groaned, shaking his head. He leaned in close. “I’d rather be watching you, my handsome, princely, darling doll.”

Maedhros growled more favorably now. "Fair enough," he said. "For so would I." He kissed him, pulling him closer.

“Mmm. Are you trying to destroy my hröa, dearest? If so, you’re doing an admirable job so far- I’m half afraid it will expire from pure exhaustion. That and a desperate need to prove my love and desire time and again.” He couldn’t help the way he moved into his husband, mirroring Maedhros desire to move closer despite his statement. After a longer kiss, however, he let his legs drop back to the floor of the tub. “I think I’d like to wash you now, beloved prince.” He looked at the edge of the bath where Maedhros had lined up a series of soap options. “Did you have a preference, or should I just pick one?”

"I always like rosemary," Maedhros said, disappointed but also glad, for Fingon was right. He dropped to his knees in the water, presenting himself, and kissing Fingon's stomach. "Do you think our merelda and Elda will have their first bonding in the water?" He wondered, "Or am I not allowed to talk about that, either?" He teased.

Fingon moaned, hand wandering to the back of Maedhros’ head. “Oh, we’ll be talking about that a lot. And doing our best to play out the event at some point.” He found a soap that was a mix of rosemary and pine and pinned Maedhros’ hair up before beginning to wash his cousin’s back. “I love doing this. I would do this for you every day if you wished.”

Maedhros sighed and closed his eyes. "Well maybe not every day. My hair doesn't need it. Well--depending on how vigorous our regular activities are," he teased, opening one eye briefly. "And yes, I want to talk about this. How long will they wait before bonding? Will their families know?"

“I think they’ll wait until our Elda is healed. The Merelda would be afraid he was taking advantage if they didn’t.” Maedhros nodded in agreement. “For our merelda, at least… perhaps there won’t be any need to tell the family first. In their society they believe that every fëa has a matching half, and they are always keeping an eye out for it. Finding the other half of your fëa is to be celebrated, and there is no chance of familiar disapproval. And because they are very spread out and not as… not as formal, it’s considered good manners to eventually introduce your other half, but it’s not important to do that right away. Does that work for our merelda society? What about our Elda- our Russ?”

"Yes, I--Russ?" He grinned. "Is that what we'll call him?"

Fingon curled Maedhros' hair around a finger. "We did say he'll have your hair. While he's injured and incoherent- and probably speaking a different language- our merelda could call him that. And if the roots of the language are similar, I'm sure Elda Russ with understand. Perhaps the name will please him? Or he could correct his rescuer and give him a preferred name."

"Oh, no, he'll like his name. Perhaps he'll give his fish friend one: call him Fin, if the pun is not too terrible," he laughed, gazing up at Fingon through wet lashes.

Fingon was caught for a moment just gazing at his husband. Pleased, dancing eyes looked up at him adoringly from under wet lashes that shone in the crystal light, and he looked smaller than usual, young almost as he bent in the water with his hair piled in a loose knot atop his head. “It’s perfect. Terrible… but perfect.” Fingon laughed and kissed Maedhros as he urged his husband into a new position and began to soap his shoulders and chest. “I shall be your Finno, and our merelda shall be Fin.”

"And both he and I will be Russ," Maedhros said, shrugging. "It's a good name," he laughed, and, as Fingon continued to wash him, he moaned, quite on accident. Oh, don't stop. Tease me all day without relief but don't stop.

“Not stopping. But I just realized- our family put so many fun things here that we forgot one!” He pulled back, pushing across the pool with a splash and activated the crystal controlling the pool lights. He set them to a bright blue and swam back to where Maedhros was waiting in the shallows. “Here- I’ll do your arms and then the rest of your front. Tell me more about what our lovers will get up to. Even if they don’t bond right away, will they be able to keep their hands off each other?” I can’t keep my hands off you. Or my lips. The world feels better, brighter, happier and more peaceful when you are in my arms and I am in yours.

"Their first kiss can hardly go smoothly," Maedhros said, mesmerized by the beautiful light crystals until Fingon returned. "It wouldn't be fair," he laughed. "What if they over think it, and fear it means something else on the other's culture?" He was purring against Fingon's touches.

“They’ll be desperate to explain, to learn about teach other and share things, only they’ll only share a few words and roots.” Fingon laughed delightedly and pressed his lips against Maedhros’ wet, shining skin. “We’re evil, beloved. But that’s alright- as long as we’re in this together, I’ll be evil with you. Yes, I suppose they’ll each be terrified they took advantage after the kiss. They’ll make quite the sight, each trying to figure out how to make sure the other was alright with it without appearing to press the issue.”

"As long as they have a happy ending, I don't care how evil we are." He leaned up and kissed him. "But not too evil. They will be happy together."

“Oh yes-- most of their troubles will come from worrying that the other ner isn’t happy, or that they might be miscommunicating. But they will make each other very happy, and Russ will bring a light to his Fin’s world even before he takes him to Alqualondë where he can see the light of the Trees.” Fingon slid his knees under himself and sat up in the water. “If you won’t be too cold would you stand for a minutes so that I can wash your legs and above your legs?”

Maedhros stood out of the water, watching Fingon with a bemused grin. "They might pick up each other's speech quickly. So fewer miscommunications."

“Mhmm. Do you think they’ll be like us?” Fingon smiled at him as he washed down a leg, working in the lather. “We could almost read each other before the full bond. Partly, I think, because we’re… us. We’ve always been together. But perhaps they’ll have something similar if not as strong?”

"Yes, especially if they are the other half of each other's fëa," Maedhros agreed, his heart responding to Fingon's touches even if his body couldn't quite yet.

"Exactly! I'm excited." Fingon's fingers tapped against Maedhros' calf as he thought about their tale. "Would you write more with me today? Though first, if we're feeling up to it, let's go outside in search of the pool."

"Alright, alright." Fingon laughed and squeezed Maedhros in a wet, happy hug. "But first I get to wash your hair. Is there a rosemary shampoo, or a pine one?" He wandered over to the assorted bottles and jars and began snugging them. "Here- Irissë writes that this one promotes fullness and shine."

"Your hair is beautiful." Fingon looked at the rats nest topping Maedhros' head and the corners of his mouth twitched. "It'll be even more beautiful washed and brushed and perhaps plaited. Come here? And can you dunk yourself once I let it free? Thanks."

Fingon took his time working the shampoo in. Even wet and coated his husband's hair was difficult to finger comb. "But I can't complain, since I like doing this and the state your hair's in means I get to play with it for longer. Can you dunk again before I add conditioner?" He waved Maedhros' hair back and forth underwater when his cousin sank down, working the suds free. Actually... Next time with the conditioner lets use the waterfall. Can we head over that way?"

Their fëar embraced, and Fingon joined in his tune as he dried Maedhros' face and worked his fingers against his scalp. "Perfect," he murmured. "Does that feel better?" He could drag his fingers down through his husband’s hair now, and most times they did not encounter a tangle he couldn't easily part.

"Perfect," he murmured, wrapping his arms around Fingon's chest and squeezing, holding him while he listened to his heartbeat.

"So good." Fingon focused on their humming and the sound of the waterfall and the feel of Maedhros' skin pressed against his. He continued his scalp massage far longer than he needed to before he brought his hands up to Maedhros' shoulders and guided him back underneath the waterfall. "Close your eyes, arimelda. I'll take care of everything else."

Maedhros closed his eyes gladly, and he thought this was bliss until the water rushed over his head, and then that was bliss. He breathed through his nose as Fingon scrubbed out the soap and conditioner, and he was in a bubble of warmth and love and Fingon. He almost fell asleep, until coming suddenly out of the water he felt reborn, and laughed, leaning up for a kiss.

"Careful!" Fingon laughed, sharing in Maedhros' joy. "I'm not clean yet- if you touch me too much you'll just get dirty again." Against his words he pressed closer to his husband. "Maitimo Russandol... I love this; love thee." He sighed happily, warm and content in the water and in his husband's arms.

After a long time just holding each other, Maedhros finally opened his eyes. "Well, is it my turn to wash you yet?" he asked.

"Hmm?" Fingon opened his eyes. "I suppose so," he said, stifling a yawn. "This evening after we wash I want to coat every in h of you in oil. And... Soon, when we visit the craft hall will you help me make golden wires for your hair to match the ones you made me?" Then we can put on our sheer outfits and see how far we manage to walk before desire overpowers us.

Maedhros chuckled. "So not far," he said, "unless we chase each other." He lowered Fingon in the water to wet and shampoo his hair with a sweet coconut scent that made him want to eat Fingon more than usual. This talk of oil was too much, so he skipped to the forge. "Could we make mine of copper? It sounds conceited, but I can never get gold or silver to look particularly good with my hair."

"Of course-- if copper is your preference then cooper they shall be!" Fingon closed his eyes, enjoying Maedhros' ministrations. "And you aren't conceited at all. You're wonderful. And I love you."

"You are the most wonderful," Maedhros countered. "And I love you most." He kissed Fingon as he washed his hair out. He slicked his hair with conditioner before pulling him out of the water to wash his body.

"I love you most." Fingon's eyes were wet and he left them shut, trusting Maedhros to guide him. "Mmm. And your hands on me are… amazing. You make me feel so cherished, so important." He shivered and pressed against Maedhros' hands, relaxing under his husband's touches. "Feels nice. And clean and good." He moaned, head falling back in bliss.

"You are cherished, and important--and nice and clean and good. And I love you," Maedhros said, kissing him as he continued to clean him.

"And you're spoiling me rotten. I like hearing you talk like that. Though your hands- you're so talented with your hands, my Noldor prince. I'm afraid you might send me straight into the sweetest dreams." He groaned. "May I open my eyes, love?"

"If you want," Maedhros said, kissing him again, rubbing at his legs, and between them. He wrapped his arms around Fingon and kissed him again and again, pulling him chin-deep into the warm water.

"Mmm. I don't know. Until you've finished washing me, you're in charge. You always know what I want, what I need. So tell me what I should do." He smiled blindly at this logic.

"Then keep them closed. Let me kiss you. And tell me what you feel, what you want," he said as he continued to wash between Fingon's legs more than necessary.

The pressure against Maedhros’ hands increased as Fingon moved against him. “Feels good. Too good- I think I could almost again… if you wanted.” He opened his fear and let Maedhros feel his pleasure and happiness and growing desire. “I can feel you and the water. Your hands are slick on me and everywhere you touch my skin tingles, wanting nothing so much as more of your touch.” Fingon’s breath caught as his husband’s fingers played between his legs. “Feels good. And I want… I want you to touch me the way you want me to touch you.”

"The way I want to be touched?" Maedhros growled, pressing him against the side of the bath. "I'm afraid I would hurt you," he said, sucking at his neck.

“Never,” Fingon whispered. “I’m not weak. And I… I know you wouldn’t really want me to hurt you. That would only hurt both of us. Want to be yours, Russandol, in every way. And then, when we get out of the bath you can dry me and dress me and perhaps I’ll try out some of these things you’ll do.”

"You--you always touch me so sweetly," Maedhros said, fingers pressing inside Fingon without proper preparation, making him drop his mouth open in a soundless cry. "When sometimes I want to feel something more." The same way you like this, he added, closing his fingers around Fingon's throat and squeezing as he kissed him. When you kept me from finishing, that was--it felt far better than it should have. What if I did the same to you right now? His grip shifted from probing Fingon's entrance to holding his sex, stroking him but also holding firmly at the base. You see?

Fingon keened and fell limp in Maedhros' hold, fists clenching and opening. Please! He tilted his head toward Maedhros and begged him earnestly. If you want... Yes, I'll do that for you. Love you, love this. Want you to play my hröa, to make me do anything you want.

"Then put your hands on the ledge behind you," Maedhros ordered. "And spread your legs for me. Tell me what you like, what dirty naughty things you like most." He let up the pressure on Fingon's throat just enough to allow him to speak.

Fingon's cheeks were flushed as he panted, mouth opening and closing a few times as words caught in his throat. "I want you to use me," he declared. "Not hurt me, but I want you to just... Just use my hröa and fëa for your own pleasure. I want to have you buried in me and squeezing my throat 'till I see stars. And- do you want me to tell you what else I like even if it doesn't fit what we're doing right now?"

Maedhros relaxed his hold a bit more, nodding. "Yes. Go on, everything," he demanded, only this time his voice sounded slightly begging.

His voice had Fingon trembling, eyes shifting behind closed lids as his body demanded to see Maedhros as well as feel him. "I like when you... When you lick me open. Your tongue, Russ, it does such things to me. And I like being buried in you, like I was on our peak when your hröa and fëa opened for me, like a perfect flower of Telperion when the petals unfold and it shines." He bit his lip. "I like the way you watch me when I'm wearing sheer garments and I love when you can't keep your hands off me. I like when we play games sometimes, when you spank me until I'm crying and begging for more and moving up against your hand."

He paused for a long moment, swallowing and grinning as the movement pressed his throat more firmly against Maedhros' hand. "I love when you just hold me or spin me about the room dancing, when we join together and it feels sacred and our fëar embrace fully, when you spoil me and wash me and carry me, when we do each other's hair and when I help in the kitchen while you cook for us. I love- love isn't a strong enough word- I love falling asleep on top of you or with you on top of me or curled against each other and waking up the sane way." His voice died off and Fingon realized he was panting for breath after words and thoughts that came too quickly, and his heart was racing.

"You..." Maedhros was panting, too, desperate with desire, and grinning. "Yes, I love that, too. All of it." He kissed Fingon fiercely before: "Right now I want to spank you, and for you to take your revenge on me later. Would you like that?" he grinned devilishly, lifting Fingon out of the water and surprising them both with his strength. "Turn over, and keep your hands under your chin, and your legs spread for me."

Fingon scrambled to comply, hands slipping on the tile. "May I open my eyes?" His shifted, trying to find a comfortable position that would not be painful with his growing arousal. And you want me to do this to you, he thought, shivering. He thought that all the blood in his body must either be in his arousal or his blush which was deep enough he could feel it warning his skin.

If you're doing this to me later, then "No," Maedhros said, voice firm though he shook inside. He adjusted Fingon so he wasn't in danger of injuring himself where he lay, and slapped him once across one cheek before lowering himself to lick at Fingon's entrance. He pried Fingon's legs apart until he squeaked from the strain.

"Ooh! Russ!" Fingon squealed at the slap and moaned as Maedhros tongue touched him. "Feels, feelsfeelsfeels... More? Please?"

Maedhros growled in response, tongue plunging inside and stimulating him ruthlessly. Want you to ache for me before I even spank you. My darling. Make sure you don't finish until I tell you.

Anything. Anything you want. Fingon whined, hips straining to press back against his husband. Want to ache for you, hurt for you, burn for you. Want you to know that I'm yours. He buried his head in his arms, feet twitching as Maedhros continued his pleasurable torment.

Maedhros grabbed a fistful of Findekáno's soapy hair, yanking his head back. "I want you to suck on your thumb, like my darling baby boy, like you used to when you were young. I want to hear your noises but not hear you speak. Understand?" He asked, pulling back and spanking the other cheek before licking him again.

Nodding, Fingon brought a hand to his mouth, sucking around it and making the same noises he would make when he swallowed Maedhros down. S'good. His thoughts had taken a high, young pitch similar to how he had spoken as a child. Want more of you in me. Want your cock in my mouth or you fucking me, Prince Nelyo.

Maedhros shuddered, Fingon's words and obedience undoing him. "You're going to get that," Maedhros promised. "But only when I'm done using you as I wish."

Fingon nodded quickly and continued to suck at his thumb, wishing he could add a couple of fingers. He was shaking constantly, hips trying to press back against his husband, to get more of Maedhros' tongue along him or in him. Love you. Yes, please, want that. Yours. I'm yours, Russandol. Love you, love you, love you. And softly, on a timid thread across their mind, Fingon sent a hazy memory from long ago. A child's voice from one of his earliest memories proclaimed happily, 'When I grow up, I'm going to marry Prince Nelyo and everything will be perfect and we'll be happy forever!'

Maedhros smiled at that, breath huffing over Fingon's skin. Yes, and now you are grown up and beautiful and strong and perfect, and you make me very happy, he said as he licked him open some more.

Russandol! Please. Need… Fingon’s legs spasms, splashing at the water around them and he pressed himself against the cool tiles. He wanted to be good for Maedhros, to be perfect for him, to show his husband that he could and word do anything he wanted. But Maedhros knew exactly how to pleasurably torment him, how to bring him to the edge with a few touches and words and then keep him there without letting him tumble over. Love you, he thought. Need you. Love you. Yours.

Would you like me to tie you up? Maedhros asked. Would that help you be good for me? Or can you hold still on your own? He grinned as he kneaded the flesh of Fingon's backside, spreading his cheeks for better access.

"Mmmmgh!" Fingon groaned, face burning and arousal throbbing. I'll be good. I'll… I'll do my very best. Please. Want to be good for you. Just- just tell my what you want us to do.

Maedhros smiled. All right. Tell me if you change your mind, he said, and bracing Fingon's legs apart with his own, he pulled his hand back and slapped Fingon hard on both cheeks, and again, lighter, and again and again, alternating strength and side. He planted his other arm in the middle of his back, holding him down. "How do you like that?" he asked.

Fingon bit down on his thumb, eyes squeezing tightly shut as he focused on the sounds of the waterfall and the bath, the feeling of water dripping down his skin, and Maedhros-- always Maedhros- touching him and working him into an ecstasy of desire. It's good, it's good, Russ, please Russ, please Vennonya, more, please? Need you, need this, your hand, your lips, you… oh Valar, Russandol, my lord, my prince, my light. His legs kicked out uselessly, splashing both of them, and he was constantly aware of Maedhros' arm holding him, keeping him steady and grounding him even as his husband's other hand worked to drive him mad.

"Nice and hot for me," Maedhros purred, touching the pink skin. "Will that feel nice as I sink into you?" He stopped smacking him as he lathered up his fingers, and began stretching him hurriedly. "Nice and hot just for me. Careful not to open your eyes, you'll get soap in them, my boy. My lovely boy." He kissed the back of Fingon's neck, draped over him as he slid inside.

Fingon moaned loudly around the the thumb in his mouth, wanting to speak to scream to turn his head and let Maedhros guide him in a deep, controlling kiss, with his husband's tongue moving in the same dance that was happening further down. He sent his desire and love in a burst of emotion to Maedhros and in a wild and untamed corner of his mind he imagined what it would feel like if Maedhros kept spanking him while he was deep inside, pressing Fingon against the edge of the pool where he had no leverage, where he could only squirm and moan and press against the cool floor or up against his husband. Russandol, yours, I'm yours, and you're mine, and I love you!

Mine, as I am yours, Maedhros promised in reply, sliding one hand up to rest against the back of Fingon's neck and squeeze. "Suck on more fingers and imagine me kissing you," he purred, hips rolling lazily, belying the urgent need Fingon sent him spiraling into. "And as for more spanking--" he hauled back and smacked him hard, once, and then pinched his flesh, which made him wriggle all the more, and he almost laughed.

RUSSANDOL! Fingon's body jerked and he squeaked, tightening around his husband. He felt Maedhros amusement and he moaned, shifting to shove fingers into his mouth. Oh, Russ, hurts, good, less, more, please! After a moment, when he collected himself, his thoughts returned to his husband's pleasure. Anything, I mean. Anything you want. Please tell me how to please you. Use me, vennonya. I am yours, hröa and fëa, and I love thee and I want to please thee. Maitimo. Russ.

"Mm, you're so good," Maedhros hummed, "you always please me, love. Seeing you like this, feeing you like--" he smacked him hard on the other cheek, "this: why, I'm hard as a rock. Want to fill you up, keep you stuffed, make sure you never forget as you go about your day. Need you as mine for at least a full day. And I'll keep your mouth busy pleasuring me and--" he groaned, jerked, almost spending. "Tell me, how would you like that?"

Yes-- yes. Want that. Want you. Fingon spams with the next hit, groaning loudly around the fingers in his mouth. He clenched around Maedhros intentionally, squeezing him in a tight hold as his eyes watered. Please, yes, love you. Please move? Want you hard and in me and moving. Want you to fuck me, Russandol. Want you to claim me, my prince.

With a terrific growl, Maedhros grabbed Fingon's hair in one fist and his throbbing sex in the other, holding Fingon off while he pounded into him mercilessly. At one point his hand moved down from hair to neck, squeezing.

Whatever sound Fingon would have made were cut off and for an endless moment he couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't even more to protest. His husband's name was the only thing, the only truth, that remained in his mind, flying across their bond again and again as his hröa both loved the passionate lovemaking and protested his constantly denied release. There were tears, though Fingon did not notice them, and he felt like he would burst from his hröa at any moment so great were his need and his desire. At length a thought became coherent and made its way across their bond, a plaintive 'I love you' followed only by more repetitions of Maedhros' names.

"And I--love--you," Maedhros grunted, and a few thrusts later he finished, draped weakly over Fingon's back. "Good boy, my very good boy," he hummed, kissing the back of his neck and petting him. "Now stay right here, love. Don't move. I'll be right back." He pulled himself out of the bath and went dripping through the room for the glass plug, which he washed and oiled freshly.

Fingon sobbed quietly, desperately needing to finish. He managed to keep his hips and lower body almost entirely still, and it was a fight to keep his eyes closed. Maedhros had gone, had left, had walked away from him and he need-- if he couldn’t have release, which he needed, he as least desperately wanted to be able to touch Maedhros or hear him speak. Russandol? Please come back. Please?

I'm here, Love, Maedhros whispered across their bond. "Here," he said aloud as he slipped into the water. "Hold still, darling, I've got you." He laid a hand on Fingon's back and slid the toy inside him. "There, all right?" Without waiting for an answer Maedhros gathered Fingon into his arms and sat him in his lap, pulling his fingers out of his mouth and kissing him. "My good boy, such a good boy. Love you. So proud."

Eyes still closed, Fingon cling to his husband and buried his face in Maedhros' neck. "So hard- need. Please, Russ- what do I need to do to get to finish?" He gasped and grew harder, painfully so, as a thought occurred to him. "Or are you just going to keep me like this?" They held each other, and Fingon snuggled close, adding in a soft voice, "if we keep going much longer I think you should tie me up. Or else I'm afraid I'll--" his eyes watered again. "I don't want to fail you."

Maedhros kissed his temple. He distantly remembered their promise of exchange, that he would do to Fingon as he wanted done to him. But when it came down to it, and once his own need was sated, he had a very hard time being cruel with him, even playfully so, even if he wanted this for him. "No, Finno. You won't fail me. You couldn't. I'm just going to rinse your hair off and then I'll let you finish. All right? Can you wait just a bit longer for me, my precious one?" He was already dunking Fingon back, holding his nose and mouth above the water as he washed his hair. I want to taste you, he whispered across their bond.

Fingon relaxed under his touch and felt Maedhros' desire, promising he would try to do what his husband wanted. He reached out to touch Maedhros and followed his instructions willingly. "Want that," he gasped as Maedhros suggested tasting him. "I'll wait, I promise." Maedhros had called him precious. Fingon shivered. "I'll be your good boy. I love you." Love you, love you, want to please you. All yours. Always. Tyë melin, vennonya, melino, arimeldanya. He smiled as water washed over him, rinsing and cleansing and working off the sweat that had built up as Maedhros teased him. He felt good, felt perfect, and loved playing with Maedhros and focusing on nothing but pleasing him (and trying to ignore his own need. "Thank you for doing this for us, for me."

"Thank you," Maedhros replied as he lifted him out of the water, brushing droplets from his eyes. "You can open your eyes now," he said, kissing him. "Now, let's get you out and dried off--" he smiled a bit wickedly as he sat Fingon down on the toy while he toweled off his hair, legs still kicking in the bath. "There we are, warm enough?" he asked, pushing his knees apart.

Fingon whimpered and nodded quickly. "Warm. Good. Please, you wanted to taste me?" He shifted, moaning as he tried to settle comfortably over the glass plug. "O-ooh!"

Maedhros grinned, rubbing the inside of his thighs gently, teasing. "All right? You like that?" he asked, kissing him as he wrapped his hands around Fingon's wrists. "Now I want you to--" he pushed his hands behind his back, arranging him until Fingon was grasping his own elbows, making a square-shape, "stay like that. Do you want me to tie your hands?"

“Mhmm. Please?” Fingon flushed, hands squeezing his elbows until the skin around them turned white. “Oh, Russ. Feels so good.” I love thee. Thank you. Want to do this to you later-- want to drive you mad. I’ll stuff you again and lick at you slowly, I’ll enjoy you as though you were a twelve course dinner at one of Grandfather’s parties. “Please, Russ. My one and only. Vennonya.” He looked up at Maedhros, eyes drawn to the play of water on his skin and the light reflecting off him, loving to look at his husband after keeping his eyes shut at Maedhros’ request. He was beautiful, and the sight of him was as comforting as it was arousing.

Maedhros grabbed a towel from overhead, wrapping it twice around Fingon's forearms before knotting it twice. "There. Now you can't move, can't escape," he murmured, lips ghosting over his throat and chest. "All mine." He took his time sucking a bruise just behind his ear, and tugged Fingon's hair gently. "Mm," he said, stopping. "Your hair needs brushing out and doing," he said to himself. "Ought to take care of that first, and you can reward me with a taste of you after. Do you think you can wait for me, my sweet?"

Fingon’s face became a mask of concentration. “I-- I think so. I have to, for you.” He bit at his lip, and looked at Maedhros beseechingly. “Can you tie me off? Just in case I were to mess up? That way I wouldn’t-- couldn’t-- fail you. Even if you said it would be alright.”

Maedhros grinned and kissed him, heart swelling. "Do you know how much I love it when you ask for something I want to give you?" He grabbed a ribbon they had used for his hair that was on the edge of the bath, and rinsed it in the warm water before securing it snugly around the base of Fingon's sex. "How's that?" he asked, swiping his tongue over the head, tasting just a bit of saltiness.

“Mmmmf! Russ!” Fingon leaned forward, wanting to touch Maedhros but unable to move his hands from where they were bound. “Oh, Valar, Russ. You undo me. You’re going to destroy me. Please. My hair, my cock, anything just touch me!” He panted, curling over Maedhros’ head, and wished he could run his fingers through his cousin’s hair.

"Shh, sh," Maedhros said, holding Fingon's neck as he guided him upright. "Back straight, love. I've got you. Know you trust me. " He kissed Fingon's lips softly and gave his throat a light squeeze before getting out of the bath and kneeling behind him with a brush.

Fingon whined, head tilting back. He immediately missed the hand around his throat, and he kicked his feet halfheartedly in the water. "Will you turn up the heat in the tub a little, beloved?" This is nice. Aside from how desperately I need you right now. Love it when you do my hair-- you've always been my favorite. You never hurt me, you're always gentle and patient. I love you.

Maedhros reached up to turn on the heaters in the tub. "Such a good boy," he told him, while he began brushing his hair. "You know I'll have to braid it, too, to keep it from getting mussed later," he said, kissing Fingon's neck.

“Russandol,” Fingon whispered, shivering. He would accept anything right now, because having Maedhros’ hands on him again was the sweetest relief. “I love thee. I love you. Thank you.” He could hear his husband’s steady breathing, and moaned quietly at the press of lips against his skin. Perfect. Beautiful. I love you. He looked out over the water and thought of their lake of stars and of all the waterfalls they would find as they adventured together while the ages passed- after all, they were children of Fëanáro and would be encouraged to explore and to learn, to invent and create and seek new things. He could see them trying to map out the whole of Aman, and then having to do so again and again when the lands changed as the ages passed. He hummed bars of their song contentedly, allowing the restraints to hold him steady as Maedhros took pleasure in playing with his form.

"You're beautiful like this. All wrapped up like a present for me," Maedhros said, smiling. He was gentle with Fingon's tangles and worked them out quickly, for he was impatient as well. "Can hardly wait to taste you. Believe me, Finno, I am suffering as well," he said with a slightly evil grin, for he could feel Fingon's need simmering. He bit on his ear as his mind wandered. "Don't lose focus. How should I braid your hair?"

“I-- ah… um…. I-“ Fingon floundered. “Maybe, waterfall plaits? And then you could do some sort of a plait down my back to keep the ends out of the way and untangled?” He blinked, trying to think. “I- whatever you’d like, I’d be happy with. You’re far better at plaiting than I am,” he added with a small grin.

Maedhros snorted, beginning to braid deftly. "Yes, I can feel you, feel how bad you need release, how bad you need me. I feel awfully wicked," he lamented, "but your hair must be looked after." I need you more, he promised him, pinning braids in the shapes of flowers on his head. You are so beautiful. And I can see you squirming, and I can smell you.

"Russ!" Fingon let out a startled squeak, though he would never admit it. He shifted his legs, feet splashing about as he shifted the plug within and sought a release the tie would not allow. "Are you… are you close?"

"Not as close as you," Maedhros said, "or do you mean am I close to finishing your hair?" He shrugged. "I might decide you look like a girl and redo the whole thing. I might decide that that's perfect." He pinned another flower-braid in place.

“Now you’re teasing me,” accused Fingon. He groaned. “Your hair art always looks perfect. You just--” he shifted his legs desperately. “You just want to torture me!” And I thought-- I thought I was your princess. He blushed again and stared straight out across the bath, eyes fixed on the waterfall.

"Yes, yes that's right," Maedhros said, "you are. My pretty princess." He grinned and kissed his neck again, and he pinned up the last flower braid. "And now you look it." He slipped back into the water directly, and lifted Fingon under his knees so that he tilted slightly back, all the pressure focused on the toy inside him.

Fingon yelled, head falling back to a position of complete vulnerability. “Russandol! Russ! P-please!” He was shaking and trembling, body spasming as it attempted to reach completion again and again only to be stopped and forced back from the edge. “ValarRussRussvenno please--”

"Back straight, remember, good, that's a good boy," Maedhros said. "Going to taste you now. Going to let you come if you're very good." He formed his lips into the shape of an ‘O’ and sucked on just the head of Fingon's sex.

Russ! The shout came across the bond and aloud as Fingon’s back arched. His mouth fell open and he almost toppled backwards as he tried to thrust forward into Maedhros’ mouth. The plug shifted inside him and he whined and groaned. “Russ,” he whispered brokenly. “My Russ. My doll. Oh, prince!” He wanted to touch Maedhros, imagined it, but he was held fast, right where Maedhros wanted him, and he could only moan and whine and whimper.

Mm, good, Maedhros said, sliding Fingon deeper into his mouth, his sex hot and red. Love you. Such a good boy. Going to tease you, and then I'm going to taste you. He twisted and sucked hard, holding Fingon still as he bobbed his head, and slowly, slowly, he reached between Fingon's legs and tugged on the string without untying him. Are you ready? Let me hear that you are ready.

Fingon keened. You’ve been teasing me! “Please, Russ! Please! Please, I’m ready! Need you, please!” He whimpered, squirming under Maedhros hands and no longer trying to hold back so much as a single sound. Please, he thought, whining. Please, beloved. Need you, love you, want you, please! I’ll do anything, anything!

My love, all I want from you right now is to taste you, Maedhros said, pulling the string free and releasing Fingon's pleasure, his screams echoing delightfully against the tiles as he swallowed him down.

Fingon spent quickly, too desperate to hold out once Maedhros had untied him. “Russandol! Russ, doll, love, perfect, please yes there more there. Russ!” He shuddered, body shifting and pressing the plug against him, making him feel like his release would never abate. “Oh! Oh! Russ, I--” He opened their link, lost for words, pouring what he was feeling across the bond as he watched his husband with eyes almost fully black with desire.

Maedhros swallowed every drop, arms reaching around behind him to hold him up, and once Fingon had grown soft he pulled him into the water with him and into his lap. "Thank you, Finno. Thank you. My good boy. Such a good boy. I love you, I love you," he said, stroking his back and undoing the knots that held his arms behind him.

“I-- I can’t breathe,” Fingon whispered. The plug was shifting with every small movement and he groaned, panting against his husband’s neck. “Oh, Valar, Russ! I can barely think. Thank you, thank you, love you. Yours. All yours, forever. Tenn’ ambar metta and beyond that.” Are you… may I worship your hröa, Russ? May I bring you release?”

"Yes, yes, Finno," Maedhros said. "But be still. Relax. Let me hold you, let me feel this. I love you," he whispered, pressing him close, and for many long minutes just holding him.

“Love you too. Love you most.” Fingon whimpered, slumping against his husband. “May I… may I touch you, my prince? I mean- just, may I put my arms around your neck and touch your hair while you hold me?” It would very nice, relaxing even. And I think it would please you. I want to bring you pleasure and bliss. You’re perfect. I want you to know how perfect you are.

"Yes," Maedhros said, kissing his temple. "Touch me as you like, move as you like. I love you, my precious Findekáno. I'm proud of you. We are done now, done with my games at any rate." He smiled and squeezed his shoulders, reaching down between his legs. "Do you want me to take the plug out?"

“I… uh--” Fingon squirmed and shut his eyes tightly. “Can we leave it in until you finish, and then remove it?” It wouldn’t give him time to get hard again. It would be uncomfortable, it would make him squirm and shift-- but it would remind him of what they had done, of how Maedhros had kept him in a pleasurable torment and how he would do this to his husband later. It would remind him of how Maedhros had granted him release first and taken such good care of him, and a part of him would love it for that. Fingon wrapped his arms around Maedhros’ neck, hands tangling in his husband’s hair as he pressed them together. “Thank you. I love you. And even if we’re not playing a game-- I’m still yours, vennonya. I’m yours as you are mine. And I love thee.”

"Yes," Maedhros said. "I'd like to order you to keep it in, but I always lose my nerve somehow," he said, kissing him softly and rubbing his arms over his body. Then he laughed: "I quite forgot we were playing a game," he said, blushing, "er, well, a game with a second part later today. I'm not sure whether I hope you'll go easy on me, or whether I hope you won't lose your nerve as I did. Either way," he squeezed Fingon and kissed him. "I am yours and you are mine."

“Always,” Fingon promised. “And if it ever goes too far, we say Laurelin or Telperion. I want- I want to give you what you want, but I don’t know how far I can push either.” Fingon smiled, kissing Maedhros’ neck. “I was very happy with what we did, even if you forgot. And I-- it’s kind of nice to know that we get so lost in each other that you forget. I love you. And you are incredible and beautiful and perfect. Thank you.” He smiled and slid his arms further around Maedhros, holding him tightly. “I love you so much. May I taste you, soon?”

"Yes, darling, yes. I get so lost in you," he murmured, his voice slurring against Fingon's cheek. "You are so perfect. I love you. You will give me what I want, I promise. Because I want you, and I have you. You cannot disappoint me."

“I’m glad. I love thee.” Fingon smiled and slid off Maedhros’ lap. “Love you,” he whispered. He grinned at Maedhros, and after a last kiss his slid underwater, taking his husband into his mouth and swallowing around him gratefully. Perfect. So good, so big and hard and perfect for me. Love having you inside.

"Whoa--oh! Fin!" Maedhros cried, pulling him up. "You'll drown. I didn't know you were quite so eager. Also you mussed your hair!" he laughed as he slipped out of the bath, water rushing down his shoulders as he sat on the edge. He smiled lopsided at Fingon, bidding him continue.

“Sorry. Wanted to taste you. And my hair’s plaited-- it’ll be fine. It was still damp anyway. Sorry.” He grinned and shrugged, lowering himself and taking Maedhros into his mouth again. Love this. It feels good, feels right. I want to have you as deep inside me as possible. He swallowed Maedhros down, holding his husband’s hips still and moaning around him.

"Ohhh Fin," Maedhros groaned, hips jerking slightly. "You feel so good." He put his hand on Fingon's head and stroked his ears. "Love you."

As I love you. You are amazing. You are perfect. You taste so good, venno. Fingon pulled back to take a deep breath, rubbing Maedhros’ hips soothingly. “Mmm. You look amazing. Delicious. Mouthwatering.” He grinned up at Maedhros and licked at his arousal with a long swipe. “Will you guide me, Russ? Put your hands in my hair and move me however you’d like?” I’d like that. He sank back down over Maedhros with a smile.

Maedhros growled, fingers already curling into his beautiful black locks. "Yes, yes," he said, sliding his mouth over him. "Feel so good. Going to make you gag on me."

Fingon whimpered, fingers digging into Maedhros’ skin harshly. Yes, please, that, he thought desperately. He moaned and squirmed as his body made a desperate, failed attempt to rouse. Please, Russ. Please, my love.

"So good, you look so beautiful with your mouth stretched over me," Maedhros said, his mind exploding in bright colors. "Want--mm--wish you could fuck me while you sucked me like this, so I could be in you while you were in me. Fin. W-will you have me again today?"

Hands gentling Maedhros, Fingon pulled off him again. "I will, if it would please thee," he promised. "Here- bend down. I want to kiss you before I continue. Will you give me your lips? I want you to taste yourself on mine." Yours, he promised solemnly. I am yours. And I wish to bring you to completion again and again, to wring you out until you're crying and trembling and then hold you and gentle you and treat you like the most important prince on Arda.

Maedhros smiled, kissing him gently before guiding him back to his sex. "Yes, I want that. Want to be yours, to do with as you will. You'll take such good care of me. Like now." He groaned at Fingon's wicked lips and tongue.

Fingon’s lips twitched upward. Yes, want that. Tell me what else I’m allowed to do to you. I want you to imagine it right now, and to share those thoughts with me. He pulled back to tease Maedhros with gentle licks and sucked lightly on the head of his arousal, glancing up at his husband with wide eyes.

Maedhros' breath was coming in short, quick pants. "Fin, I--" He couldn't say it aloud, but he imagined tied, hand and foot, to the bed maybe, or to himself, with the plug in him tormenting him as he had been tormenting Fingon. And he was tied off, so he had no release, and sometimes Fingon had his mouth, and sometimes Fingon took the plug out to have his way with him, and sometimes Fingon rode him while he was so tied. And just when he thought he was going to weep for lack of release Fingon let him spend, and he did until he blacked out. Or-- It's just what I imagine, he said, brought suddenly back to the now as he crested the edge. "OH, Fin!" he cried, spending suddenly.

Russandol! Fingon moaned and pressed close, swallowing greedily. Perfect, lovely, you taste so good! He worked Maedhros through his completion, gently urging his husband to continue moving with shallow thrusts into his mouth. “Russandol,” he murmured when he finally let Maedhros slip away. He grinned widely. “How I love thee. How I love thee. Come here?” He guided his husband back into the water, embracing him carefully. “You’re so amazing, Maitimo. I love doing that with you.”

Maedhros grinned, slipping into the water and wrapping his arms around Fingon. "Love you, darling. Thank you. You are so wonderful. Thank you. My precious one." He kissed him, tasting himself on his tongue.

“If you’re moving, do you think you can, ah, take it out now?” He shifted slightly, lips parting in a silent ‘o’ as the plug moved within him. “Please?”

Maedhros smiled, nuzzling him as he reached around. "Of course. Can you help me? Push a little for me, I've got you." Fingon was deliciously tight, but the toy came out easily. "There, all right? Okay?" he checked, holding him tight as he let the bathwater wash the toy.

“Mhmm.” Fingon slumped with a splash, head resting against Maedhros’ shoulder. “Better than alright. That was intense, but very, very good.” He brought his lips to Maedhros’ neck for the slightest kiss. Thank you, thank you. And see, you’re still spoiling me. You make me so happy, darling prince. They relaxed together, enjoying the continued music of the waterfall and the play of crystal lights around the room. “Very, very good… Perfect.”

"Mm, should we go for that walk? Find the pool and play mereldar?" he giggled. "You have quite put out of mind anything I ever looked forward to doing ever again." He hugged Fingon and kissed him.

“We should-- we told the twins that we’d find it.” Fingon smiled at his husband, trailing fingers up and down Maedhros’ back. “At some point I suppose we’ll have to get help creating merelda costume. But for now, can you pretend that I’m a dark haired, slender merelda come to save you from the waves and the storm?”

"I can--and will. Should I carry you to where our pool is? Er, where we think it might be? I have a suspicion..." He stood, lifting Fingon out of the water. "We could say there is a storm and they have to get away from the beach. And Russ carries them inland, to hide in a cave."

Fingon nodded. “That sounds wonderful. Only, can you carry me right now? I don’t want to wear you out too soon.” He winked. “Also, we should bring towels and slippers and things. And maybe dry off first? Or would that be silly since we might be getting wet again? If we don’t dry off you must promise to keep me warm!”

"We should probably towel off, but otherwise I'll keep you warm," Maedhros said, drying them quickly and pressing Fingon's hair dry. "Do you think the merelda will have ever braided his hair?" He shook his head. "Well, never mind that. Where do you think the pool is?"

“You can teach him,” Fingon said, laughing. “I’d imagine it’s down in the valley and they’ve managed to fill it using diverted water from the stream? Is that what you were thinking? I suppose we can have an adventure looking for it!” Fingon grinned and twisted to kiss Maedhros. “I bet there’s a map of our home somewhere in the library, but I rather like exploring it with you. Each new room is exciting! Everything is an adventure with my wonderful, much beloved husband.”

"Agreed," Maedhros said, kissing him again and again. "I had the same thought. I wonder how we go down there or if the stairs keep going?" he shrugged, and once they were dry, swept Fingon off his feet. "Shall we?" he said, heading for the stairs.

Fingon giggled, clinging to Maedhros’ shoulders. “We’d best find a route with stairs if you’re carrying me, melda!” He twisted, curling himself against his husband’s chest. “So strong, my husband. And so gentle. You awe me and inspire me.” He hummed lightly in time with Maedhros’ footsteps, excited that they were off on another adventure.

At the bottom of the stairs they came to two corridors, one of which had a hammer while the other had a detailed fish carved at the entrance. "That way?" Fingon grinned and pointed down the fish corridor. It was brightly lit with windows that would be nearly invisible from out in the valley giving them spectacular views cross the gorge. The floor was ramped and they descended slowly, until they reached another shower room and a closet with piles of large towels and cushions. "I think we're almost there, Russ!" Fingon hugged him tightly, delighted.

Maedhros returned the hug, squeezing Fingon in his arms. They piled towels onto Fingon’s lap before stepping past the shower and out the door. They had found it-- the pool was surrounded with greenery and fit into the landscape. The water within it was constantly moving due to the tiers of waterfalls carrying water down from higher above. Crystals glowed in soft blues and greens, though Fingon would bet there were more controls, similar to within their shower room. The water itself looked inviting, and was open except for the sculptures of beautiful Eldar lounging around it, or relaxing against a tree. Fingon’s legs kicked out as he surveyed the pool.

“Russ, is it just me, or does it look like there’s a cave behind the waterfalls?”


	17. Chapter 17

_Maedhros returned the hug, squeezing Fingon in his arms. They piled towels onto Fingon’s lap before stepping past the shower and out the door. They had found it-- the pool was surrounded with greenery and fit into the landscape. The water within it was constantly moving due to the tiers of waterfalls carrying water down from higher above. Crystals glowed in soft blues and greens, though Fingon would bet there were more controls, similar to within their shower room. The water itself looked inviting, and was open except for the sculptures of beautiful Eldar lounging around it, or relaxing against a tree. Fingon’s legs kicked out as he surveyed the pool._

_“Russ, is it just me, or does it look like there’s a cave behind the waterfalls?”_

 

 

"Oh, Fin!" Maedhros cried, marveling at the size of it. "A cave, you say? I thought this was a pool, not a lake!" he carried Fingon a few steps further before he decided something. "Fingon, drop the towels. We're going in. I hope it's not freezing."

“Move over a little-- we can put them on a rock at least.” They deposited the towels, and Fingon clung to Maedhros, grinning madly. “Alright-- ready when you are!”

Maedhros hesitated no longer before running and jumping full on into the pool with Fingon in his arms. The water was surprisingly deep, and he had to swim back to the surface, and they came up laughing. "Ai, Findekáno! It's perfect. It must be heated." He kissed him and began swimming them toward the cave.

“Of course-- of course our family thought of that!” Fingon smiled and let Maedhros continue to guide them. “It’s _fantastic_! Now I can’t believe Ambarussa didn’t insist on coming here.” They passed under the waterfall, grinning and laughing, and entered a cave carved into a steep face of the valley. A touch to the wall inside lit a series of red and orange crystals that glowed like flames along the walls. There were stools in the water, and a bar, and it looked like there was a smaller pool in the back. “Hot springs, or a hot bath, do you think?”

Maedhros was looking faint. "I don't--Fin, I don't know! How can we possibly deserve this?" he gaped. "How did our parents--I just--it's insane!"

Fingon shook his head, holding Maedhros close. “I don’t think it’s about deserving,” he whispered. “It’s about family-- our family. Tell me, if Makalaurë were marrying, would you want him to have anything less than this? We’d be working with everyone else to create something unparalleled and incredible for our brother and his spouse.” He gazed around them. “It really is beautiful. And we’ll spend years trying to thank everyone.” And trying to keep Turko from arranging pool parties here. I sense a subtle danger in this particular wedding present.

Maedhros laughed. "At least we can keep an eye on him that way," he said, spinning Fingon in the water and kissing him. He flipped onto his back and pulled Fingon on top of him before: "Oh, wait, I'm supposed to be the bad swimmer, and you're supposed to rescue me." He immediately stopped moving and sank with a grin.

Fingon ducked underwater, grabbing Maedhros under his arms and pulling him to the surface. “It’s not fair,” he muttered in his husband’s ear as he kept their heads above the water. “Fin will have a very strong, muscular tail to help keep them afloat. You’re still tall and powerful, but I don’t get the advantage of a tail!” He kissed Maedhros’ cheek. “Oh well, I suppose you’re worth it anyway.” Definitely worth the extra effort. I love you, always.

Maedhros grinned, kicking slightly to help. "All right. I won't be totally helpless. Neither will our Elda. At least, not always." He hummed, hands wandering. "You'd look very fetching with a tail."

“You think so?” Fingon glanced down at himself. “Thank you dearest. And careful where your hands go! I imagine the juncture of skin and tail would be very sensitive.” He winked at Maedhros, imagining several ways they could exploit such an area.

Maedhros laughed evilly. "Oh?" He said, mind wandering (maybe they wrap their tails around each other during mating) though he slid his hands up around Fingon's neck.

“Mhmm. It’ll be… one of the sensual touches-- sort of like that!” Fingon moaned, pressing his neck back against Maedhros’ hands. “And what about our Elda? Will he think this strange?” Fingon grinned evilly. “Do you think he may accidentally give his merelda some rather inappropriate waist gropes before realizing that for a merelda that’s an erogenous zone?”

Maedhros laughed. "Yes! I'll try hard not to play it for laughs. He'll be horrified if he's half as prudish as me."

"Aww, not prudish," Fingon protested. "Just… ah… shy." Shy was a good word, a safe word. He bent over Maedhros, giving him a deep, upside down kiss. "If you were such a terrible prude I doubt you would have done what you did to me earlier this morning," he added with a wink. He bit his husband's lower lip and tugged on it. "You're gorgeous like this. Though I think I'll have to do your hair all over once we're done in here. Hmm, I suppose it's my turn to torment you next time we bathe. Remember what you were doing to me?" Your turn next, my dearest husband.

Maedhros blushed and buried his face in Fingon's shoulder. "Part of me forgot about that," he said, muffled. Part of me very deliberately remembered.

“No need to hide,” Fingon whispered. He pressed his lips to the top of Maedhros’ head, holding him loosely. “I loved everything we did together. And we are wed, we are bonded-- there’s nothing wrong with us playing a bit.” I loved it. I love you. And I look forward to getting you as desperate with desire and need as you had me.” He ran a hand across Maedhros’ hair. “It was good. Thank you for being so creative this morning.”

Fingon's words comforted him, for he sometimes still worried Fingon played along for Maedhros' pleasure, not his own. He was ashamed of these doubts, but he could feel the rightness in Fingon's fëa, and he smiled. "You're welcome," he managed. "And thank you in advance for the same."

Fingon laughed softly. “You say that to soon, darling.” He kissed Maedhros’ brow again and pet his husband softly. “Will you be so glad when I keep you on the edge again, and you rise up again and again and again and aren’t able to finish? When I fill you, and take my pleasure from you while I make you wait and wait, while I stuff you and tie you and gently lick at you will you thank me?” His hand lowered to wrap around Maedhros gently. He did not stroke or try to make him rise-- only held his husband in a loose grip. Mine.

Maedhros gasped, nodding dizzily. "Yes, yes I will. In a way that makes little sense to me." He gulped. "I like to not be the eldest, the responsible one, sometimes. And you are a very good caretaker."

“All I can promise is that I will do my utmost best to always care for you, hröa and fëa, arimelda.” He exhaled softly and released Maedhros, shifting him so that they stood in water up to the top of Fingon’s shoulders and faced one another. “Kiss me, vennonya? Please?”

"I know you will," Maedhros said, and though briefly disoriented by being able to stand in the pool, he kissed Fingon passionately, his arms tight around him.

“Well, I’ll want to try out the small pool later, but I feel like if we do so now we’ll be cold when we get back in here. Shall we head back outside the waterfalls to keep exploring? The rest of the valley looks gorgeous! When we’re dressed, if you’d like, I’d very much like to explore the valley or the heights later. Perhaps after lunch?” If I can move that far-- you worked my hröa well this morning. “Or perhaps tomorrow.”

Maedhros grinned proudly. "Yes, well. You mean you want us to explore our valley in the nude? Or should we make a trip upstairs for garments?"

"I suppose we should put something on. I warn you, though-- if we go today you may end up carrying me back. I'm a bit sore." He grinned, shifting his legs and still feeling a slight burn from all they had done before.

Maedhros pressed his lips together. "Sorryyyy," he said, but he wasn't, not really, not when Fingon sounded almost proud. "I'll gladly carry you. Anyway we needn't go far.”

Fingon nodded. “We might just head out along the heights and see if we can find an area with a good view of the surrounding land. Or, if need be, we could just find a tall tree.” He grinned, guiding them over to the edge of the pool. “I’m ready when you are.”

"Oh, carrying starts now?" Maedhros pretended to be exasperated but grinned as he lifted them both out of the water. After toweling off briefly they returned inside to their closet.

“I know what I’m wearing.” After briefly considering hiking appropriate clothing Fingon instead pulled on his sheer garments and light sandals. He smiled at his husband, a promise of things to come, and began to pull together the jewelry collection he wanted, putting on the pendant his husband had given him as well as bracelets of blue and clear jewels and a thin silver circled, dusted with diamonds and showcasing more blue gems.

A growl rose up in Maedhros' chest before he could stop it, and his hands were already grabby. "You--um--if you're trying to get my attention, Finno, you've got it," he breathed, unable to blink. "Sh-should I dress to match?"

Fingon moaned quietly. "Please. I'd like that. Only remember, you must be ready to carry me back." He smiled at his husband, and twirled for him. "Am I missing anything? To complete the look?"

Maedhros nodded eagerly. "Always," he promised, dressing in his sheer garments, but wearing only jewelry which Fingon had given to him and were in his colors. "I submit myself to you for review before we leave," Maedhros said, standing straight.

"Oh darling, we're going to be lucky to even get out the door!" Maedhros glowed; he was the perfect image of Noldor royalty and, better still, of a wanting and ever ready husband. "I burn for you, beloved. I ache and I stand in awe of your splendor."

Maedhros blushed. "Oh, stop," he said. "Shall I carry you now, or would you like to walk a bit?" We won't exactly get to look at each other if I'm carrying you.

"There are very few things that would make me give up such a view at the moment. Lingering aches most definitely are not one of them." He smiled and stepped forward, hugging Maedhros lightly and wondering at the light fabric that seemed almost nonexistent, allowing the heat of their hröar through with ease. "Are you ready, best and brightest prince Nelyo? I would very much like to be on your arm as we set off."

"I am, more than," Maedhros said, taking the same stairs down, past the pool, and into the valley. Not Their Valley, but the one they lived near, and which was very beautiful. His hands wandered, but not too much, over Fingon's form, but his eyes certainly wandered more.

Fingon smiled, their mingled appreciation and the stirrings of desire forming a pleasant buzzing in the back of his mind. "Everything is lovely here, except you arimeldanya. You are breathtakingly gorgeous, and the beauty of our valley only serves to highlight that." He slid an arm around his husband's waist and looked down over the river. "Do you think we can make our way over to the waterfall? Not too close, if the mist is cold, but I'd very much like to see it from a short ways off." He pulled Maedhros along with him, searching for a path amid the steep slopes, trees and rocks.

Maedhros chuckled lowly. "Your shirt is transparent enough without you getting wet, I think--so, no, not too close," he said, smiling and following Fingon, time and time again distracted by the curves of his body, by the childlike delight and wonder his fëa exuded, by the constant and total love that flowed steadily between them. He was glad Fingon was leading, because focus was already difficult.

You make it sound like I'm not so entranced by you, Fingon thought with a small note of complaint. He grabbed his husband's hand and squeezed it. "I love you. I really do. More than anything." Of course, as they squeezed along through the woods they fell in line, and Fingon had fewer glimpses of Maedhros than his husband had of him. "It's getting louder-- do you think we're close?" They climbed a large boulder set in the hill and passed a small outcropping of rock with large trees growing out at an angle, curving towards the light. Then it was there. Fingon stopped and after a step Maedhros was directly behind him, hands wrapping around his waist. "It's beautiful, Russandol. Our home- our home my prince." His arms settled over Maedhros' own, and he hugged Maedhros to him. "I feel like my hröa can barely contain my fëa-- as though I might fly up into the air with you at any moment."

"Our home!" Maedhros cried, lifting Fingon and spinning him while they kissed. The structure was beautiful from this angle, built into and over the cliff face, like his father defied nature with it, and as though he had been planning it for years. The waterfall crashing beside it, feeding the home itself--and powering it, he realized as he noted a waterwheel--was awesome, and loud down here in the valley, and for the first time Maedhros wondered what the house was built of that the noise didn't bother them inside. But these thoughts were distracting him from Fingon, and he bent down to kiss him again. "Don't fly away without me. I have need of your hröa yet," he said with a grin.

"Never away," Fingon praised, squeezing him tightly. "If I could fly I would not, unless you could fly also and we would not be parted." He offered his lips again, torn between looking at the waterfall and the house and the valley and looking at his husband-- elegant and strong and proud beside him. "We'll have to ask him sometime," Fingon suggested, catching his husband's thoughts regarding their house. "But not today. And not tomorrow. Right now the only Elda I want to be around is you." He distantly wondered if their father had been planning this ever since he learned of their betrothal, and if their mothers may have been planning their gifts even earlier. Perhaps he would ask them at some point. Or perhaps not-- in the ended the when was hardly important. They were married and their families had been beyond generous, and the world was good and bright and lively with his husband beside him and their home reaching up the cliff to their left.

"Agreed," Maedhros answered solemnly, though he smiled. "Only you." He hugged him close and breathed deep, as if he could inhale his very fëa. "Oh, I love you," he said, feeling their hearts beat against one another. "I love being here. I love you."

“Tenn’ ambar metta,” Fingon whispered. He brought a hand up, gently caressing his husband’s face. “You have been wonderful. And I love you. I love you so much.” He realized that he was no longer torn. His eyes were for Maedhros only, and he thought there was no sight so beautiful nor so entrancing as that of the ner he had married, had given himself to gladly. “Shall we climb a bit higher?”

"Yes--only if you go first," Maedhros said with a lecherous grin. "Where should we climb to?" he glanced upward reluctantly. "Do you think we could reach our landing from here?"

“I’m sure we can. You’ll catch me if I fall?” Fingon pressed their lips together again. “Though next time, I think you’ll have to go first.” He lowered a hand to grip Maedhros’ rear, squeezing. “I imagine the view would be… absolutely spectacular from below.”

Maedhros bit his lip, insides fluttering. "Yes, possibly," he said. "But I want to make sure you won't fall." They began to scale the cliff, slowly and carefully, up to the balcony of their bedroom, which they could see above them. "It's not terribly far. But the rocks are slick. Do be careful, Fin!" he called.

Fingon laughed. “Aren’t I always?” He glanced back at Maedhros with a smile and a wink, increasing his speed.” You be careful, darling. Make sure you look where you’re going, alright?

"Oh--that might be a bit difficult," he said with a grin, and made a point to pull his eyes from Fingon's backside and to the handholds in front of him. But with this added focus, Maedhros quickly caught up, and soon he was climbing over Fingon, holding him to the wall. Do you remember this? Our first kiss like this?

“Russandol,” Fingon whispered. He half slumped, trying to sink into the wall and relax with Maedhros pressed against him. “How could I ever forget? My greatest dream began to come true in that moment.”

Maedhros huffed as he settled closer over him and kissed his neck. "But you were mad at me, at first. It didn't go entirely well. I was...not exactly kind."

“After, yes,” Fingon admitted. “But there was a moment-- a glorious moment-- when our lips brushed and you _didn’t_ pull away. And I knew, I knew in my bones, in my fea, that you felt as I did. And I thought I would burst from happiness and relief and love.” I wanted you in ways I didn’t fully understand, but it was right and it was good because you wanted me in return. And my heart soared. And I loved you as I always have and as I always will. Even after… I was hurt. I walked away so I wouldn’t say something that we would regret. But I never stopped loving you. My heart was given to you long before, and nothing could ever change that.

Nor did I, Maedhros promised. That moment was the culmination of a lifetime of denying my love for you. I'm sorry that I did. And I never will again. He pressed their cheeks together and then kissed Fingon, awkwardly because of their position, but it was beautiful.

“I know.” Fingon twisted to look at his husband solemnly. “I trust you.” He pressed against Maedhros for a long moment. “Shall we keep climbing? We can rest for real once we make it to the balcony-- come one!” Fingon jumped, hand grabbing a small hold in the rock above his head and scrambled upward.

Maedhros grinned. "Yes, all right," he said, following close behind. Presently, they made it to the top, pulling themselves up onto the balcony and lying there beneath the small breakfast table and chairs rested, breathing a bit heavily. He flashed Fingon a smile. "Enough adventure for one day," he said.

“Hardly-- I have plans for you this afternoon darling,” Fingon drawled. He winked at his cousin, sharing a brief flash of such plans. “Though we should break for lunch first. There’s more soup. Did the family stock us up with bread? I’m in the mood for a thick, rich bread with soup for lunch. And perhaps some fruit-- oranges if we have them.”

"For you, my prince, anything," Maedhros said, helping him to his feet. "Will you allow me to carry you into the kitchen and prepare a meal for you?"

Fingon smiled and nodded. “It would please me greatly. Though I’m happy to help prepare the meal-- just let me know how I may be of assistance.” He looked up at his husband. “First though-- may I request a kiss?”

Maedhros kissed him gladly, allowing Fingon to pull him where he would. "You need only ask," he said when they parted. "And I like to serve you. If you would like more soup, then more soup you shall have. I could make twelve courses of all dessert if you like!" He swept Fingon off his feet and brought him into the kitchen.

“I think I’d be sick,” Fingon said, laughing. “The idea is sweet--” Maedhros groaned, “but it’s something the Ambarussa would be more likely to actually try.” He hugged Maedhros, snuggling against the slick-smooth material his husband wore. “Is there anything else you want for lunch, or will soup and bread and fruit be enough?”

Maedhros shrugged and shook his head--and blushed as a sudden thought came to him. "Uh, I only--only a taste of you," he said, Innocent or not, he added.

“I would never deny you such. Here-- I would have your lips, doll.” They kissed again as Maedhros set him on the counter in what he was starting to think of as his spot. Mmm. You taste good. I could survive off you alone, doll. You’re a feast. Lunch, though-- we need to keep up our energy for this afternoon. What should I do?

Maedhros coughed and straightened. "If you would like to find a bread that pleases you and slice it, you could," he said, while he warmed up the soup and added a little more water to it.

“As you wish, m’lord prince,” Fingon chirped, jumping lightly off the counter. “Something a little heavier, I think. I’ll be right back.” His hand trailed across Maedhros’ shoulders as he walked by, heading for the cupboard. “Are you still as impressed with our kitchen, or are you already thinking of things you’ll be changing around?”

Maedhros shook his head. "It's perfect. My family knows me--eerily well, actually. It's set up quite like at home, but with taller counters and things." Everything was where he thought it ought to be, instinctively. It was, as everything was in this house, perfect.

Fingon located the bread he wanted quickly-- everything was perfect for them-- and placed it on the counter. “Cutting board? Which cupboard will it be in?” He began pulling knives out of the rack until he had a bread knife, and set it beside the loaf. He paused for a moment, just watching Maedhros. His husband was beautiful, and the sheer robes he wore shimmered in the light of the Trees as it came through a large window close to the stove.

Maedhros tapped the counter. "Marble. Everything is a cutting board." He grinned. "You see, they thought of everything." He leaned jauntily against the counter, just watching him.

“Very clever.” Fingon grinned and cut the loaf into thick slices. “Let’s eat on the balcony again. If you agree?” He smiled and shrugged a shoulder, uncertain what they were doing at the moment. Maedhros had said that morning that he wanted Fingon to be in charge for the day, but, particularly at times when they were doing something as commonplace as eating, he preferred to act as equals. Except everything they did now was with the knowledge of the afternoon to come-- preparing for it, in a sense. Which added another dimension to a day long game. He gave Maedhros a wry grin and stepped up to him, wrapping his arms around his cousin’s neck. “I love you,” he whispered. It was his universal truth, and however confused he became he was certain it would guide him straight.

"I love you," Maedhros said, but frowned as he caught the hesitation, and took Fingon in his arms. "We don't have to--do--certainly anything you don't want, you know." He took Fingon's chin in his and looked him in the eye. "My fantasies have no bearing on my love for you and my enjoyment of our time together. I do not ever want you to feel pressured to perform a certain way that--if you do not want to." He kissed him gently.

“I want to do this, Russ,” Fingon whispered. He shivered. “I hope that’s not bad. I just… I never want you to think I’m taking you for granted. I never want you to think I don’t see you as something infinitely precious. If I take charge, I never want you to think that your opinion doesn’t matter or that I’ve forgotten you are with me, beside me as my equal if not my better.” He blinked up at Maedhros, trying to press closer with the rest of his body though his husband held his head carefully. “Sorry. I’m being silly again. I love you. And I plan to enjoy you thoroughly this afternoon. And then, tonight, can we just be us? Tonight, when the stars shine across our room, I just want to be in your arms and watch the stars and listen to the waterfall. And tell you that I love you again and again and again until we fall asleep, still holding each other close.”

Maedhros nodded, beaming. "Just us, yes. As equals, I promise." He kissed Fingon's hands. "It is because I love and trust you so very much that I want to give myself to you, if just for a bit."

“Then I shall accept your gift as just that. Forgive me, melda. I’m just… silly. Is the soup almost ready?” Fingon squeezed his husband’s fingers, wanting, needing to be close to him.

"Never silly. Only wonderful." He glanced over his shoulder. "The soup is ready when we are."

“I’ll get a tray for the bread and spoons and napkins if you want to dish up a couple of bowls. And perhaps some water with lemon.” He didn’t move immediately. Instead Fingon pressed close, squeezing himself against Maedhros. “I love you. I love you so much, vennonya. Words cannot say.” A bundle of light and warmth and love flew across their bond before Fingon was willing to step back and finish preparing their lunch.

Maedhros couldn't stop smiling as he prepared their food and followed Fingon out. "Ah, it's so beautiful out here," he said, sliding his chair around so he was next to Fingon. "Not cold, are you?" he asked, lifting Fingon's legs and setting them on his lap and massaging his feet.

“I’m perfect-- I’m with you.” Fingon reached out to squeeze Maedhros’ arm gently. “Thank you. That feels amazing. I’m going to dig in while the soup’s still hot.” He tore a chunk of his bread, dunking it in the thick brother and savoring the smell before he took a bite. Wonderful, he thought with an internal moan of delight. I think it’s gotten even better. Did you add more oregano today? Or thyme? He tried to isolate the flavors.

Maedhros shook his head. "Soup is usually better the next day," he said. "The flavors get stronger. I made no changes." He continued to rub Fingon's feet with one hand while he sipped at his bowl.

“It’s very good. As expected, of course.” You’re very talented. They ate quietly, making a game of pointing out various things in the valley-- a funny shaped rock or cloud, a stand of good climbing trees, or a deer path winding its way up the slopes. “There-- look, just beyond the stream-- I think I see a hart.”

"Oh--would you like to go hunting sometime? Or leave them for Tyelko and Irissë and our younger cousins?" Maedhros asked as he finished his soup and soaked up the last of the broth with his bread.

“Not any time soon, at least. I’m far more interested in celebrating life and new beginnings with my wonderful husband.” Fingon leaned over for a quick kiss. “I hadn’t realized how hungry I was, but… it was good to get something more in my stomach. I feel good. Still a little sore from earlier, though,” he finished with a teasing grin.

Maedhros gave him a not-so-oops oops face. "Well. Would you like to enact your revenge, or should we clean up first?" he teased.

“Are you in such a hurry?” Fingon smiled lazily. “I’d like to finish my water first, and mop up the last of my broth with another slice of bread. And eventually we should clean up-- I don’t want any unfinished business to be on our minds this afternoon.” His toes curled. “Tell me, would you like to start in the bedroom, or somewhere else?”

Maedhros pressed his lips together, shifting with the beginnings of nervous arousal. "Um. I suppose I would like to start in the bedroom, yes--unless, well. You know how I feel about libraries," he said with a shy smile.

Fingon shifted his feet in Maedhros' lap, rubbing a foot against Maedhros' stirring desire as he continued to eat. He paused for a slow sip of water. "Libraries... I can work with that. Yes, that would be a lovely place to start."

"Em," he protested against Fingon's foot's teasing, but the touch was delightful. He coughed. "Yes. Uh, may I take your dishes in?"

Fingon sat up, moving his feet to the ground, and pressed a quick kiss to his husband's lips. "Please. But I'll wash them since you made the soup." He paused. "You can help dry if you'd like."

Maedhros grinned up at Fingon, closing his eyes at the kiss. "Gladly," he breathed.

Fingon shot to his feet with a laugh. "Come on! The faster we finish the dishes the sooner we can move on to other things!" He offered Maedhros a hand, leaning back and tugging his husband to his feet. "I'll carry our drinks if you take the tray." Maedhros nodded and they adjourned to the kitchen, where Fingon began running hot water. "That was a very good lunch, Russandol. Thank you."

"Well, thank you," Maedhros replied. "Not bad for leftovers. We could have soup again tomorrow if we like, but I think that will be the last of it." He set up next to Fingon with a drying cloth, ocassionally nudging him with an elbow or kissing his cheek, just to keep up contact between them.

"That sounds good." Fingon began handing dishes to Maedhros as he finished washing them, giggling as his husband stole kisses and caresses. "Do you know what you want to do for dinner? There's steak in the cold box, or all sorts of pasta in the cupboard. We still have plenty of fruit and a good veg mix for salads... I'm up for anything you'd like." He shrugged and grinned at Maedhros as he passed him a bowl.

"You are supposed to help me decide," Maedhros said, grinning back. "And then I will cook for you." He was putting dishes away almost mechanically now, without thinking where they should go.

"Steak sounds good, with some black salt and freshly ground pepper. And perhaps some small potatoes with rosemary? Or cheese... Hmm. Rosemary," he decided. "We can use some of the leftover bread and fresh veg and make a fondue to go with dinner." He winked and leaned over, carefully keeping his wet hands out of the way as they kissed. "Does that sound good?"

"I have fond memories of you and fondue," he said, kissing him, "and I look forward to making new ones. I would like to have you covered in chocolate so that I can lick it off you."

"Mmm. Promises, promises! Later, though. This afternoon you are mine, beloved." As I am yours always. He leaned against Maedhros contentedly. "Fondue for dessert sounds delicious. I look forward to it! And I'll hold you to that." They squeezed one another briefly. "Now, did you want another glass of water, or are you finished?"

Maedhros recognized the down to business tone at the end of that sentence, and nodded. "I think I'll have a glass of water. And would you mind if I got cleaned up a bit first? Only with all the running and eating... I could be right back dressed as I am now if you like."

Fingon smiled, playing with the ends of Maedhros' hair. He nodded and turned to refill his husband's glass. "That sounds nice. Only, don't come back here. Clean up and head to the library. When you get there I want you to prepare yourself for me-- present yourself in a way that you believe will please me. Any way I can see you pleases me," he amended quickly, "but I would like to see how you choose to present yourself to me, my thoughtful and creative and most definitely _not_ prudish husband."

Giddy with praise, and stomach churning with excitement, Maedhros fled the room. He returned to kiss Fingon's cheek before leaving again. He was sweaty from their climb and didn't like how he smelled. Also, they had eaten a lot since their last play, and he wanted to be clean inside and out for Fingon. He brushed his teeth, made sure his hair looked nice, and dabbed himself with nice-smelling oils before dressing hurriedly, taking one last look in the mirror, and heading for the library.

Once in the library, he gave thought to how he wanted to present himself to Fingon, and his heart pounded. He thought about striking a seductive pose on the couch, but instead knelt by the door, head and eyes down, hands resting on his knees and feet under him. He could see his reflection in a polished cabinet across the room, and straightened his back, and waited.

Fingon took his time drinking another glass of water and washing their glasses. He listened carefully for the sound of Maedhros on the stairs before he wandered into their bedroom, setting up the fireplace for another fire in the evening. He stepped into the washroom and rinsed off quickly, washing with a sweet pine soap and he pulled off his jewelry. He dressed again, and draped himself in red and orange and yellow gems, pieces of jewelry Fëanor had held him to craft in his lessons over the past few years that were made to be worn while he stood beside his husband, shining in Maedhros' own colors. He grinned, and after a last look in the mirror he made his way through the halls barefoot, forcing himself to walk slowly though his heart was racing as he imagined how his husband might be waiting for him-- on one of the tables, perhaps, or the couch. Or would he be incredibly subtle, sitting and reading a book, looking up as Fingon entered and beckoning him closer. He shivered. Anything would please him, anything as long as he could see Maedhros, could touch him. He realized with a wry smile that it had been days since they had spent even this much time apart.

Fingon entered the library with a smile, gaze sweeping around the room. His steps faltered as he spotted his husband, and for a moment he was struck by a deep desire to be the one on his knees before Maedhros, though he was sure he would not look so beautiful. "Vennonya." He breathed the word, awed, humbled, and entirely in love. "Nelyafinwe Maitimo Russandol, arimeldanya." He shook his head, and took a step forward and then another. He moved slowly and silently, unable to tear his eyes away from the image Maedhros presented, back straight and proud but kneeling, head turned down. "You can--" Fingon's voice died and he wet his lips, swallowing before he tried to speak again. "You can look up," he whispered, reaching out to bestow a fleeting touch on Maedhros' hair. "I wish to see your eyes, my light in the darkness, my best, my only."

Maedhros raised his eyes in brightness and gladness, but left his chin down: he did not want to be a prince, haughty chin held high, not now. He wanted only to glow with his love for his--

"Findekáno," he gasped, trying to take in the sight of him bedecked with jewels, clean and glistening against clean and glistening naked skin. "Oh, Fin, oh, Valar." He was a worshiper, and Fingon his god.

“Yours,” Fingon whispered roughly. “Your lord, your prince, your husband.” He caught Maedhros chin with his fingers, bending down to kiss him. “And you, my dearest doll, are _mine_.” He brought their lips together firmly, but not unkindly, and when he stood straight again he moved closer, until Maedhros’ head brushed against his thigh and he could gently pet his husband’s hair. “I love you, melda.” He huffed. “And you seem intent on stealing my breath and my thoughts. Have you any idea how incredible you are in this moment? I should kneel at _your_ feet and worship _you_.” Only I have no desire to see you move. You look beautiful looking at me like that. You make me want desperately to be worthy of the way you look at me. Here-- kiss me again? He pulled on Maedhros’ hair, easing his head back.

Maedhros' gaze was unwavering, and he savored the kisses, and the tug on his hair stirred his insides. Mine, as I am yours. "Will you accept me, fëa and hröa, as a gift, my prince?"

“There is no finer gift that could be offered.” Fingon shivered in arousal. He smiled at him, keeping a tight hold on Maedhros’ hair as he stole another kiss. “Yes. Yes, I accept you. I adore you. I love you. I will drive you mad with need and then comfort you and pamper you. You’ll be sore and used and wrung out, and you won’t be able to complain because afterwards you won’t have to do a thing.” He kissed Maedhros again before letting go and stepping away from him and beginning to make a slow circle around his cousin. “Valar, but you are a piece of art worth of adoration.”

Maedhros felt like he might melt into a puddle at Fingon's promises--oh yes please, he begged over the bond--but he puffed up and straightened as Fingon circled him. "I am glad I please you," he said softly.

“You do. More than anything else on Arda.” When Fingon was in front of Maedhros again he pet his head again and stepped back. “I would very much like your mouth on me darling, but I think I would like to sit. Will you come to me?” On your knees. He glanced back once, making sure he would reach the couch. Aside from that he had eyes only for Maedhros, elegant and shining in the light of the Trees where it streamed into the room.

Maedhros dipped his head in a nod, and after Fingon sat, he dropped to all fours and crawled forward, swaying his hips back and forth. He smiled up at him and rested his chin on Fingon's knee.

Fingon bit his lip and slid his legs further apart to accommodate his growing arousal. He shot Maedhros a slightly embarrassed look that quickly morphed to a heated perusal, one hand moving to frame Maedhros’ cheek. “Breathtaking. You steal my thoughts and dreams, my mind a heart, my everything. Come now-- you can even use your hands. Show me your appreciation, thief, and I shall let you keep what you have taken.”

Maedhros tried to look guilty, but he only smiled and licked his way up his thigh. "You are so beautiful," he breathed, hands closing around Fingon's sex. "Want to taste you. Want to keep all of you. Need you," he said, slipping his lips over the head of Fingon's sex.

“Need you to.” Fingon ran his hands through Maedhros’ hair, gentling him and whispering soft words of encouragement as his husband moved. “Hmm, you like to play sometimes, pretending that I’m still little-- that I’ve never done anything like this, that I’m still your little boy. Do you think right now we could pretend that you’ve never done this?” He brushed his thumb along Maedhros’ cheek. “We could pretend that it’s your first time- almost like when we were in the cabin for the first time after we found our valley. I’d be very gentle with you, giving you directions-- ah!-- there, just like that. So good, doll. And slowly I’ll encourage you to take me a little deeper, to play me like a harp and make my hröa sing.”

Maedhros slid off, smiling shyly. "I would like such a game. Would you like me so innocent?" he wondered, nuzzling the inside of his thigh.

“I like you having me thus.” Fingon smiled and ruffled his hair, mussing Maedhros’ braids. “You are beautiful and perfect and precious, and yes-- for a little while, I would have you perfectly innocent. But darling, my precious doll, do you see what you’ve gone and done to me. I’m all hard, my betrothed. And I ache for you. My entire body is tied up in knots and trembling with desire for you.” His legs shifted restlessly. “I wouldn’t make you. I never want to force you or make you think you have to… You can leave if you want to; I can take care of it on my own.” Despite his words his eyes sought Maedhros’ desperately. Please, love? Need you want you love you.

Maedhros pulled his hands back and tried to appear small. "I want to. I'm just not sure what to do," he pretended, blinking up at him with large, curious eyes. "Will you help me?"

Fingon smiled, leaning down to kiss him chastely. “I promise I’ll teach you how. I’ll be very gentle with you.” Fingon guided him forward carefully. “I’d like your tongue, first. I want you to lick me, taste me. And then, if you’d like, you can take me in your mouth. Will you do that for me?”

Maedhros couldn't stop smiling, but scooted forward and swiped his tongue up Fingon's slit, and grinned. "Oh, it's--" he made a face. "Mm. Salty. Tastes, um, strong. But like you." He swallowed, and tried again, closing his lips around the head, pressing his tongue against him to taste again. "I think I like it."

Fingon moaned, mouth opening and closing. “I’m-- I’m glad! I mean, I like it too. Like having you there. Oh, Russ. I’ll do this to you sometime, melda. Want to taste every last inch of you. You can go lower if you want. Take my, ah, my sac in your mouth too. Or touch me while you explore.” He reached out for one of his husband’s hands, guiding it closer to him. “You don’t think this is wrong? I mean, it’s not really bonding. And I just-- I ache for you. I burn for you, my Russandol. I so want to join with you in every way we can.”

"No, I don't think it's wrong. Feels good. I'm, ah--" he put his left hand over himself, as if to hide his own arousal, as he slipped his fingers beneath Fingon's balls how he thought he might like to be touched. He left his mind and fëa open, so Fingon could follow his mock-innocent thoughts. "I want to take you deep--" he said, and suddenly sucked him into his mouth, as far as he could until he gagged. "Ugh!" he cried, recoiling, pouting. "I don't think I can take the whole thing!"

“Shh, it’s alright. My brave boy. I’ll teach you, if you wish. I haven’t, with anyone, but…” He blushed, and met Maedhros’ gaze. “I’ve tried with a fruit before. I wanted to know that I could take you, when the time came. Just what you’re doing feels very good, though. Can you squeeze a little?” His eyelids fluttered shut. “Perfect. Perfect. Are you ready to try again, or should we keep doing this?” His hands had shifted to Maedhros’ shoulders and he was gently massaging them, thumbs wandering up his cousin’s neck. “My betrothed,” he whispered when Maedhros did not immediately answer. He kept his voice low, a secret sound, just for them. As though they were in Fëanor’s house or Nolofinwë’s or Grandfather’s and had to be careful and quiet. “What do you want to do?”

"I want to take you all the way," Maedhros said, determined. He swallowed. "Will you help me? Um, hold my head?" He squeezed his fingers together, rubbing in a small circle. He opened his mouth eagerly.

“I’m letting go if you start to choke,” Fingon warned. “Try to swallow when I hit the back of your throat, and keep swallowing until you’re nose is pressed against me. You understand?” He held Maedhros carefully, guiding him forward. He paused with Maedhros’ breath warming his arousal and making his hips twitch. “Doll? If you really need to press a hand against yourself you may, but no finishing until I’ve had my turn. I intend to taste you, not to waste so sweet a gift as your essence.” Then he was pulling Maedhros forward with a sigh, hands tightening in his husband’s hair as he sank into bliss.

"I promise," Maedhros tried to say with his mouth full, but then Fingon was pulling him deeper. He gave a small cry of alarm, but swallowed dutifully, and now he could feel Fingon at the back of his throat. He gagged again, but insisted, surging forward. Want, he said, hitting his leg with a gentle fist: want more.

“Fuck!” Fingon held him, gasping, and after Maedhros had several seconds to begin to grow accustomed to the feeling he began to pull his husband’s hair, guiding him backward and forward. “So good, so clever dearest. Though I may have to punish you for that later. Still, it’s… very arousing to know you want me so much. There-- a little faster, do you think you can?” He glanced to the side, stealing looks down his husband’s torso. “So hard, darling. Just from tasting me and choking on me? Oh, we will have fun someday, beloved. I promise, thee.”

Maedhros groaned, impatient and frustrated that he couldn't answer, though it would only be Yes, yes, more, please, faster, I can do more, I want you to punish me, I want you, want all of you, yes more later, soon, can't wait, so hard, tasting you makes me so very hard, yes. He whined and pulled himself forward, swallowing again before he gagged and spluttered and had to pull off. "Sorry, sorry," he rasped, wiping his mouth. "Am I doing it wrong?"

“You’re doing it very right. It’s just clear that you haven’t done this before… have you any idea how arousing that is?” Fingon moved to massage the back of Maedhros’ neck gently. “I’m going to help you this time, and we’re going to keep going. If you want to stop, you need to squeeze my leg. Or grab my arm or punch me or something. Ready?” He guided Maedhros forward again, urging him into a quick, rhythmic movement. “Very good, darling. You’re so beautiful. I can’t wait to have you in my bed. You’re so careful, so responsive. You’ll let me do anything I want to you, won’t you?” The game had morphed, and the way he spoke was a far cry from the gentle sweetness he had yearned for as he rode to their cabin, but this was good. It was fun and, with their bond, he knew his husband was not worried or anxious or hurting. “Good boy,” he whispered quietly. “My very good boy.”

Maedhros gagged and spluttered, but this was glorious. It felt so deliciously filthy, and yet sweet, to let Fingon take him and guide him like this. And Fingon's roughness was probably the hugest turn-on he had experienced so far, and without realizing he was rubbing himself to the same rhythm as Fingon jerked his mouth on and off of him.

“Don’t you finish. I told you-- I get to taste you,” Fingon groaned. Or finish, if you’d like, and I’ll come up with a suitable punishment for wasting your seed thoughtlessly. They sped up, and Fingon fell out of the game. Instead he began praising his husband and whispering how much he loved him, loved this, and loved being in libraries with him. “My stars and Trees, my perfect prince, please, need to spend-- need to finish in you. Please. So close, come on, come on--” He broke off with a strangled moan, holding Maedhros’ head over him as he spent.

For a moment Maedhros was torn between play and himself, and wondered whether he should spend as one untutored and accept punishment, or if he should stop himself from finishing for his Fingon. In the end he couldn't help himself, overcome with desire as he swallowed Fingon's seed, with a cry of his own he spent, hips jerking.

"Ohh," he groaned in delight, mouth still trapped against Fingon with how he was holding his head, and then "Oh! I'm sorry, I--" he pushed back, trying to sit up. "Sorry, I just--I was so--"

Fingon was staring at him with dazed eyes, his husband’s completion still rolling through him. He pressed his lips together firmly and wrapped a hand around himself, trying to prolong the feeling before he softened. Eventually he slumped in the chair. “First you disobey me and then you can’t back away from me fast enough?” He was smiling slightly, taking the sting out of the words. Time to choose, my dearest husband. Shall I simply comfort my innocent beloved, holding you, rocking you, and licking you clean, or shall I come up with some sort of a ‘punishment’?

"Sorry, I'm sorry," he mumbled, looking down, kissing his thighs. "It was an accident." Your innocent beloved will need to be comforted, but also punished, I think, he said, grinning inside, though he still frowned: "Let me make it up to you?"

“First, I think I still want to taste you.” Though he wondered if Maedhros would want to kiss him when he tasted of his betrothed’s seed. “But even before that… I would like a hug, and a kiss. Climb up on my lap?”

Maedhros nodded, but didn't move at first. "Even though I messed up?" he asked sadly, wiping his mouth. "I want to kiss you, but I--I'm all messy and--" but he threw his arms around him and hugged him, anyway, desperately.

“Arimelda, I don’t mind a bit.” Fingon ran his hands up at down Maedhros’ back soothingly. “May I kiss you, dearest one? Just relax. I’ve got you. And except for not following instructions a couple of times you were very good, very adventurous and brave. I’m so proud of you.” He kissed his husband chastely, and then deeper, tongue tracing the interior of his mouth. Someday, beloved, will you reminisce with me about our weekend at the cabin? I would like to share my memories of it with you and to share in your thoughts and feelings from that time.

Yes, I will. I remember it so very fondly. When they broke for air, Maedhros was smiling and breathless. "I'm glad. Thank you. I-I'll do better. I want to do better, to be better for you. You'll help me, won't you?" He kissed his cheek and curled into him.

"Of course I will." Fingon tilted his husband's head up. "I love you very much. And you're perfect for me, doll. Just as I hope to be perfect for you." He wrapped his arms around Maedhros and held him close, curling around him and relaxing for a timeless embrace.

Maedhros found himself settling easily against Fingon's strong frame and his gentle words. "Love you, too," he said in a small voice, and "You are perfect for me," he assured him. "Sorry I messed up. What can I do to make it up to you?"

Fingon's hand brushed against him soothingly. "You can start be unclothing and letting me taste you at least a little. Then... Perhaps we can work on your control. When I've had a taste I want you to go to a washroom and clean up. Come here and find a book with a good story-- something like Irissë's poem, and bring it to me." Hmm, I like having you slumped over me, for a change. You feel wonderful, beloved. You feel loose and sated and happy. Fingon smiled against his hair. You make me very happy indeed.

And you feel so strong against me, Maedhros related: You feel wonderful, and make me very happy. "I um, well, I made a mess inside my trousers," he said, hastily undressing. "But I'll clean up. Um. Where do you want me?"

"Be careful not to make a mess on the floor. You can kneel here again, a leg on each side of mine, but I want you to brace your hands on the back if the couch and sit tall." He gazed up at Maedhros from beneath dark lashes. "Can you do that for me?"

Maedhros folded his clothes neatly as he stepped out of them, and nodded. He crawled onto Fingon's lap, straddling him (nervously, for this was hardly an appropriate position) and resting his hands on the back of the couch. "Is this all right?" He asked.

"Mhmm. Very pretty, my well formed one, my dearest Maitimo. Now, a little higher if you're able." Fingon slumped down in the chair. He reached behind his husband, taking a globe of flesh in each hand, and pulling Maedhros-- sensitive, spent Maedhros, to his mouth.

"Oh!" Maedhros cried, squirming but not removing his hands. "Oh, Fin, I can't--er--" if he really were just come of age and so innocent as he was pretending, he might have been able to manage it, but not after days and nights of this sort of play--at least, he didn't think so. "Ai, Fin!"

Fingon looked up at him, pulling back and licking his lips with a small moan. "You taste exquisite, my Russandol." He grinned, licking at the skin he could reach and moving lower, delicately taking his husband's sac into his mouth. "This though, this is my favorite." He sat back up, mouth closing around Maedhros softened flesh. He attempted to encourage arousal and delighted in the soft sounds and squirming movements Maedhros made in reaction. So good, doll. I might just make us stay like his all afternoon. He gave a harder suck, fingers kneading the soft flesh they gripped.

"Oh! Ah!" Maedhros cried, shying back, but unable to escape. "Please--uhhn--Finno, I--it feels--mm--hurts--good. Too soon!" he complained, but now his hips bucked forward without his permission.

Fingon laughed silently. "I thought you needed me so desperately you couldn't wait?" He nipped at his cousin's abdomen playfully before pulling him close again. "More. I'm going to drive you mad with need, my dealing." He bent forward, gazing up at Maedhros unrepentantly.

Maedhros groaned and squirmed, but soon, whether he wanted it or no, his body roused to the attention. "If this is my punishment," he squeaked, gripping the couch with white knuckles, "I daren't think what my reward would be," he said with a grim smile, before gasping as Fingon swallowed hard around him.

"Do you think this is all there is to your punishment doll? You need to practice rising," he shifted a hand around and gripped Maedhros' base firmly. "And staying." His husband gasped. Fingon winked up at him and released him, hand caressing Maedhros' hip and returning to his rear. "But first, I want to bring you to completion as I had planned to before. Then wash up, get the book, and we'll discuss what happens next." He smiled innocently and moved to continue deliciously tormenting Maedhros' hröa.

Words were gone from him now, but Maedhros bucked and groaned and cried out as Fingon teased him. It wasn't exactly painful, or if it was, it was not in a bad way. It was like he had been running or climbing or swimming for a long time, and he was tired, but there was still more running to be done. And now he was impossibly close to finishing, and cried out, moving his hand and grabbing Fingon's wrist. "Ai! Fin! C-close, gonna--"

Fingon's hand tightened around his base again, holding him back. "Sorry. I couldn't resist." He steadied Maedhros as his husband trembled. "Tell me what you're feeling, doll. What is it like to have someone do that to you?"

Maedhros almost choked as Fingon stopped him from finishing: just with a little well-placed squeeze! While the part of him that was pretending to be innocent marveled at this, and whined, and felt every bit of due betrayal, the rest of him shivered in delight. "Aihhaa--uhh? It feels good to--to have you touching me even though it's hard but--but not good to stop like that. P-please, Finno, may I? May I finish?" he whined, hips jerking.

"This time," Fingon whispered. No promises about later, though. He smiled, moving his hand to tug at his husband's hair affectionately. Finish for me, arimelda. I wish to taste thee. Then his mouth closed around Maedhros as he encouraged him to move.

Maedhros screamed and pistoned his hips in and out of Fingon's mouth, coming undone,overwhelmed with the sensations, with Fingon's touches and his promises, and most of all his sweet hot mouth. "Oh fffuck, Finno!" He cried as he crumpled.

That's it. That's my boy, my doll, my perfect one. Fingon held him close, steadying him and working him through his completion. He was grinning when he pulled off Maedhros, sliding up the couch and pulling Maedhros down on top of him. He slid sideways until they lay on the bed, Maedhros' feet dangling off the end. "My Russandol… you are wonderful, beloved. You are amazing and perfect and I love you so." He panted, licking his lips and grinning up at his husband broadly. Having fun?

Maedhros nodded, panting for breath, but he was smiling. "I love you, too," he said, breath hitching. "That was--" too much, amazing, not enough, I love you, need you. He gave up and tucked his head beneath Fingon's chin. "Was I good for you?"

“You were perfection incarnate, my love.” Fingon tightened around Maedhros’. “I adore you. I admire you. You’re so good, so brave, and you made me so very happy.” Oh, darling. I can hardly keep the game going, he thought with a giggle. I know I keep falling out of it. I just love being with you, my husband. I didn’t push too far? Maedhros was smiling and felt happy, so he was almost certain his husband had no issues with what they were doing. “And how you waited for me-- golden and fiery and kneeling so beautifully… I burned for you, my Russandol. And even now my fëa stirs and my heart skips a beat. You please me more than words can say, more than anything but a full bonding could hope to explain or show you.”

Maedhros blushed. "I long for that, too. Oh, Fin, you are so kind to me. I don't deserve you." I enjoy this very much. You tell me if you want to stop. "I would be happy only to be allowed to make you happy."

“You do. No matter what we are doing, you make me happy and more than happy. You light my word, and I am blessed.” Fingon sighed and smiled. “When you’ve caught your breath, you know what I’d like you to do next-- clean up, and find a book for us.” He ruffled Maedhros’ hair. First-- games aside-- before you move, I’d like my husband to kiss me and to hug me.

"Oh! Oh, yes," Maedhros said, squeezing him and kissing him, again and again, before scrambling off the couch and up. "Clean up. And a book!" He picked up his clothes. "I'll be right back!" he said excitedly, feeling as young as he was acting.

Fingon laughed, flopping down on his back, eyes following Maedhros as he trailed off. “No need to dress for the occasion, darling. I wouldn’t want to make you put on dirty clothes. You soiled them, so you can go without for the afternoon.” We really must make you body jewelry. I’d love to see you wandering around dressed only in strings of gold and fiery gems.

"Oh," Maedhros said. "I--I was just going to put them away," he explained, but hesitated, as if waiting to be dismissed. "I would like to be naked for you. Just cleaning up."

“Very well. You can continue-- I’ll just… wait for you here.” He gave Maedhros a half smile. “Don’t take too long, my one and only love. My world dims without your presence, and my hröa and fëa ache for your touch.”

Maedhros flashed him a smile, and was gone, racing to put his clothes in the proper hamper, wipe a towel over himself, and racing back to choose a book. Poetry. He wanted racy naughty poetry, then kind that made him think of Fingon if he read it alone. He pulled a book off the shelf and skidded to his knees in front of Fingon, eagerly holding it out to him.

Fingon sat up, accepting it gently. “Careful, my dearest.” He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Maedhros’ brow and smiling as his husband’s eyes slipped shut. “I don’t want you to _ever_ hurt yourself. You are my prince, my world, and I never want you hurt.” He flipped through the book, grinning wickedly. “You are perfection incarnate, my dearest. Will you sit with me?” He patted the couch next to him, eyeing Maedhros’ clean form, a missed drop of water making it’s way down his chest. “I’d like to read a bit to you. And afterwards, you can read to me.” His eyes were full of mischief, and he gently nudged Maedhros, asking him not to search his thoughts just now-- he thought his husband would appreciate the surprise.

Maedhros smiled, nodding, and crawled up next to Fingon. "Yes, let's read." He rested his head on Fingon's shoulder. "I won't hurt myself, I promise. Want to take good care of what belongs to you," he whispered, blushing even as he said it.

“Russ!” Fingon bit his lip, body tingling and reacting to the statement. “Oh, _Valar_ love. Mine, yes, as I’m yours. And I’m very glad to hear you’ll care for yourself. I love you very much.” You’re going to drive me mad with desire, vennonya. He brushed Maedhros’ hair from his face, kissing him. “Here-- I’ll read the first chapter. And darling? As the book starts to… move you… feel free to show your interest. In fact, I insist.”

Maedhros kissed Fingon's bare shoulder. "How do you mean?" he asked, possibly over-doing the innocence, but enjoying it.

Fingon’s cheeks reddened and he swallowed hard. “Well, my dearest one,” he began, hand trailing down Maedhros’ side to slowly wrap around him, “you could touch yourself. Wrap your fingers around your cock, and start to pull a little. Press into them. Rouse yourself and make yourself into a piece of art for me, untamed and debauched and beautiful.” He leaned over, kissing the top of Maedhros’ head. “Do you think you could be very brave and proud and do that for me?”

Maedhros let out a choked breath. "Ah! Huhh--yes, yes I could. I would. Not yet though, maybe?" He pressed his lips together. "When you start the story. But you're much better at this than I am."

“You’re all I could ever want, and I wouldn’t change you.” Fingon winked and added, “I rather like that you blush when you do such things for me. You blush, but it arouses you, and you show yourself parts of me you would show no one else. I see your trust, your love, and your devotion and I am awed and humbled by it. But for now… your book.” He grinned, leaning against Maedhros and beginning to read.

Maedhros listened attentively, leaning against Fingon as he read the erotic poetry. Soon he was touching himself without realizing what he was doing. "Fin," he said as his need became more urgent.

“Shh. I’m only-- two thirds of the way through the chapter. When we get to the end we’ll see about doing something for that. And for this.” His hand brushed against his own growing arousal and he sighed softly, legs and hips shifting before he turned back to the book. “It’s getting good, isn’t it? Someday I think we should try to do everything mentioned in here together. Well, everything that can be done in private. Or, in semi-privacy.” He thought about their lovemaking on the balcony and Maedhros shouting to the sky for Manwë’s birds to hear. With a shiver and a small tremble in his voice he continued to read.

Maedhros also shivered, and deciding two could play at this game, he began peppering small kisses against his shoulder and neck. Why were they reading a silly book when they had so little time together? he wondered, as part of the game, though in reality he was tiring of the poetry and wanted more Fingon. He let his mind wander to how they would feature in the various situations described, hoping to get some needed attention.

Fingon finished the chapter and took his time carefully marking their place and setting the book on the arm of the couch. “It’ll be your turn to read next, beloved.” He turned to look at Maedhros and moaned quietly. “You really are a delight to behold. Careful now-- I don’t want you finishing too soon. I’m afraid we’ll have to change the game a little for your punishment. Is that alright with you?” I promise we’ll have fun.

Maedhros nodded. "I won't mess up again," he promised. "What are we going to do?"

“You messing up isn’t possible,” Fingon assured him with a soft kiss. “You were lovely, and I quite like how much you desired me, how much it effected you. I’m just having fun.” They kissed again and he pulled back and stood. “Move over a little, where I was sitting. The light’s quite good there, don’t you think?” He kissed Maedhros again and walked away, returning with the jar of oil they had used before. “Now, I want you to prepare me.” He smiled, and straddling Maedhros, pulling their lips together in a deep kiss. “Want to have you inside me, doll. I’m so… so empty. Will you fill me up?”

Maedhros grinned, as if he had been given a bowl full of candy for himself. "Yes, oh--mm," he said into the kiss, "yes I will. You'll have to help me. Don't want to hurt you," he said, slicking his fingers and teasing his entrance with a skill that belied his pretend ignorance.

“That’s -- ah! -- that’s good, melda. Just like that.” Fingon reached down, linking their hands and pressing one of his fingers fully inside. “There, want you in me, Russandol, like this. Come on, darling, once you stretch me out we can do something even better.” His free hand stretched down Maedhros’ front, holding his husband’s arousal as he carefully balanced on his lap.

"Ohh--oh!" Maedhros pressed his finger in deep, striking the bundle of nerves inside him (on-purpose-accidentally), and quickly added another. "But--but will it hurt?" he asked, eyes wide.

“Only in the best way.” Fingon glanced up at him lovingly. “You wouldn’t hurt me, Russandol.” Soon he was pulling off of Maedhros, sliding to his knees on the floor and gazing up at him. “Have to make sure you’re ready, dearest.” He slipped his mouth over his husband’s arousal, tonguing at him teasingly before he pulled back and removed a hair tie. “Now, we don’t want you finishing too soon, do we? This is just to help you, alright?” He pulled Maedhros into another long, slow kiss, and then straddled Maedhros facing away from him, lowering himself onto his husband with a low groan of approval. He settled with his back pressed against Maedhros’ chest, reaching out to squeeze his husband’s hand. “Good?”

"Ah!" Maedhros cried, head spinning at the wonderful horrible things being done to him. Here he was the penetrating partner, but Fingon was the one in charge. "Yes. Mm. May I--uh, move?" he asked, mesmerized by the point where their bodies were joined.

Fingon nodded, wrapping a hand around himself lazily, and glanced back with a bright smile. “You can reach over to your left and grab the book.” He bounced on Maedhros’ lap, grinning. “It’s your turn to read few chapters.”

"Oh--wait, what?" Maedhros protested. "But--" But he didn't want to disappoint Fingon, so he picked up the book, rested it on Fingon's back, and struggled to focus, though he read haltingly and groaned often. When his need became desperate he stopped. "Fin, I need to--when do I--um," he mumbled.

“Don’t worry, my beloved prince.” Fingon reached back, petting his hair. “You’re nice and tied off so you won’t finish too soon. Now you can just let me enjoy having you, and we can keep imaging things we want to try from your book.” He sighed, and squeezed Maedhros’ leg. “I know I’m asking a lot of you. Do you think you can accept this challenge and spend sometime reading to me? I dearly love your voice.”

Maedhros coughed. Of course, for Fingon he could and would do anything. He nodded before remembering Fingon couldn't see him, and squeaked out a "Yes," before he continued. It was even harder to concentrate than before, and his toes curled and feet shifted and hips rocked, until he was misreading words all over the page, and his need grew desperate as Fingon wrung him out. But he didn't stop.

Fingon closed his eyes, holding himself gently as he focused on his husband's voice and on his warm, solid presence behind him. Maedhros was beautiful in this as he was in everything, and Fingon rejoiced in every missed or tripped over word. He sighed as his husband shifted within him and groaned as Maedhros' desire flowed along their bond, becoming his own. Want you so desperate that if I let you go and told you to untie yourself and spend you wouldn't have the coordination to do so, he thought, grinding back against Maedhros. Valar, but you make me feel... enticing. And slightly evil. I want you to squeeze my arm or kiss the top of my head to tell me that you're alright, Russ. This is supposed to be hard-- it's a punishment remember-- but it should be something you enjoy.

Maedhros was impossibly dizzy, but he nodded. I can do this. "I'm all right," he said, kissing Fingon's neck and shoulder. "All right. Your pleasure is mine," he gasped as he could feel Fingon squeezing and moving and taking: and all he had to do was give. "I love you. M-may I touch you? Or do you want me to--ah!--Read?"

"Oh! Um... Both. I want-- one of your hands. Please." He reached out, grabbing Maedhros' palm and wrapping it around his arousal. "Keep reading?" he begged. "It's my turn to finish. I promise I'll share it with you. You won't be able to follow me physically, but you'll feel everything. Close, Russ. Please!"

Focusing on Fingon helped Maedhros ground himself, and though it was more to deal with it helped him concentrate on everything but himself and his own need, and he dizzily continued to read and move his hand. "Fin," he breathed, in between verses, and kissed the back of his neck, working Fingon to completion.

"That's it. That's my doll." Fingon leaned back, turning his head. Maedhros was in him and surrounding him, hröa and fëa, and he had to see his husband, greedily seeking to be closer still. "Please, Russ. Yes, perfect, perfect my love." He bit down on a moan, trying to focus on Maedhros' voice through the ringing in his ears. Close. Perfect. Love you so much. Want you to feel this, to share it with me. Please, Russ? I'm... I'm-- "Russandol!" His hands clutched at Maedhros, desperately trying to hold into something as he spent. He bucked against his husband, driving his length into him again and again. "Russ! Venno!" Love you love you thank you so good perfect lovely!

Maedhros felt Fingon's pleasure wash over him as keenly as his own--or better, for Fingon's happiness made him swell with pride as well. "Ai, Fin," he said, holding him as he went limp, though almost immediately he was reminded of his own need. He brought his hand to his lips to taste Fingon and moaned.

Fingon tilted his head and offered his lips to husband. He relaxed, though Maedhros' need was a constant tingle in the back of his mind. "I love you so much," he panted. "My perfect Russandol. Keep reading, please."

"But--" Maedhros tried to protest, but immediately thought better of it and picked up the book. He was just-- _sitting_ inside him like that, like Fingon didn't even notice, and the thought was so erotic he stumbled over words still, and he squirmed, unable to keep from moving.

Fingon moaned, shifting atop his husband. "You think this does nothing to me?" He asked the question as Maedhros turned a page and he guided one of his husband's hands to where he was still half hard, having never softened entirely. It's too much and not enough and so good, vennonya. "See, I'm punishing both of us for your lapse. I feel so _much_ beloved." I want to squirm for you, on you. He swallowed. "Finish the chapter, doll, and I'll read the next one to you."

Maedhros didn't know how he would survive this, but he continued to read, hips doing some dance he wasn't following. He read quickly, skipping sections he hoped Fingon wouldn't notice, until he finished the chapter. "Pleeeeease, Finno?" he begged.

"Very well, since you ask so nicely." Fingon plucked the book from his husband's hands and smiled at him. "I will read for you. Besides, either you're making it impossible for me to concentrate or," he squeezed down around Maedhros, "you've been skipping parts." His hands trembled as he held the book open, pausing to wrap Maedhros' hand around him again. "Ready?" One more chapter, darling. You're doing so well! If you can take one more chapter, I'll help you to completion afterwards. Or if you want to stop I'll untie you and you can have me here in the couch.

Maedhros buried his face in Fingon's hair, squeezing and teasing him with both hands as he listened to the erotic story and was slowly tortured by Fingon's body squeezed around his desperate cock. I can be good, I can be good, he told himself, quickly forgetting about the story.

Fingon's eyes fluttered shut and he snuggled against Maedhros. You're very good. You're the best. A kiss to his cheek and he continued reading, forcing himself not to flip ahead to see how many pages they had left. Soon, he promised. Soon.

Maedhros shivered but held on, sweating and rocking and touching and needing, the story blurring together with reality. But he was in a rhythm now, he could manage this, he could hold on to this, he was even enjoying this just so long as no one moved or nothing changed.

Fingon’s voice sped up, words rolling off his tongue as he rushed forward, ready to set it aside, to let his husband find his completion and to share in his joy and pleasure. He barely had the mind to be careful with the book as he finished the chapter and set it aside, pressing himself off of Maedhros and moving with shaking hands to release him. “You-- you are my every dream and desire, vennonya. Thank you for being you.” He gave him a half smile and levered himself up, facing Maedhros and tilting his chin up, pulling his husband into a kiss as he lowered himself onto him.

"Ah-ah-ah no wait don't," Maedhros said, taking his hand. "Slow. I might--don't want to--" but as Fingon released the tie and slid down on him, he groaned in bliss. This was perfection. "Oh, Findekáno, you are my life," he breathed, arms going around him tightly while he crashed their lips together. "M-may I? May I show you what you do to me?"

“Please. Please, darling.” Fingon shivered, beginning a fast movement over his husband. “I love thee. I want thee. Please kiss me. Oh, Valar, Russ. Don’t know if I’ll finish with you. I want to. But-- whatever you need. Whenever you need. You’ve been so good!”

Maedhros shook his head. "Want with you," he gasped, slowing his movements. "Please, please, pleasepleaseplease want you." Want to feel you happy. Can wait." He kissed Fingon, deeply, slowly, desperately, and wrapped one hand around his sex, milking him. "Please want you with me."

“Oooh. Oh, yes, Russ! Please, Russandol!” Fingon moaned, holding Maedhros to him and groaning from his husband’s hand and mouth, from his warm length within him and everything bright and warm and good that flowed through their bond. “Please-- I’m-- I’m right _there_ , Russ! So close. Please!” He yanked Maedhros’ forward by his hair, biting at his lips and pressing their mouths together again.

"Now now now!" Maedhros demanded as he couldn't hold on any longer, and with a jerk and a growl and a tug and teeth and tongue and handfuls of hair and somehow suddenly they were on the floor, Maedhros finished, howling his lover's name and pounding into Fingon, kissing him until his vision went dark for lack of air.

Fingon held onto Maedhros, gasping and shouting until their bond dimmed and Maedhros collapsed onto him. He held his husband, squirming slightly at the overstimulation as he worked himself free and stroked Maedhros’ back. He whispered gentle, soothing words, caressing Maedhros’ with hands and fëa until his  husband’s eyes flickered and he pressed their lips together chastely. “Thank you, my beloved husband. That was… I don’t know if I can even move right now. That was intense. And strong. And I quite enjoyed your choice of book. Thank you. I love you.”

Maedhros didn't answer for many minutes. He couldn't. He just breathed and blinked at Fingon as if he were speaking a language he didn't quite understand. Finally, "Love you," he mumbled, face squashed against his shoulder. "Loveloveloveyou." He shook himself. "Don't want to move, either. Not hurting you am I?"

“Never.” Fingon shook his head, hold tightening around his husband. “You’re perfect. And you feel wonderful. I’m not sure I meant for things to go quite so far so soon. I was going to tie you to our bed and have my way with you.” He winked, kissing Maedhros’ cheek before dropping his head back down. Russ? Maedhros blinked up at the plaintive, apologetic tone. Our hair got messed up.

"Fear not, I'll re-do it, whenever I can move again." And he blushed, but purred: "You still could, you know." He licked Fingon's neck and then kissed it. "But I am content." He held Fingon close, and rolled, so that Fingon was on top of him and not squashed beneath him.

Fingon giggled and snuggled into his new position. “I fear you grossly overestimate my stamina, arimelda. Right now all I can think about with any clarity is lying here with you, doing nothing but enjoying your presence and perhaps hugging you or running a hand through your hair.” He tilted his head and kissed Maedhros’ chin. “And doing that. I love you.” Thank you putting me on top of you. You weren’t crushing me, but I do like how you always take care of me. Even when you’re worn out and can barely move.

Maedhros was still flushed, so the blushes didn't matter anymore, but his fea swelled with the praise and he grinned and looked away. "Me take care of you?" he said, pressing their noses together. "That was the greatest--" he shook his head "possibly ever. Three times in--I can't believe it. You really are a marvel." He kissed him and hugged him close. "We could write more if you'd like instead. Or just--lay about and talk."

“I’m sure you’ll, ah… inspire me soon enough. But I would like to write and lay about and talk as well.” Fingon smiled brightly, returning the hug. “Don’t want to waste the day, but… would you be disappointed if I wanted to close my eyes for just a few minutes? You wore me out, and you’re _very_ comfy.”

Maedhros grinned and kissed Fingon's brow. "Yes, yes of course, not at all, here, just--let me--" reaching, he tugged a blanket off the corner of the couch and pulled it over them, and as an afterthought, he stuffed a pillow under his head. "There. Trees're nice and warm." Indeed, the light of the Trees was shining on them at a gentle angle through the large windows, perfect for napping. "Comfy?" he mumbled, hand in Fingon's hair.

“Mhmm. Tyë melin.” Fingon yawned. “Tyë melin.” His eyes slipped shut and he slowly drifted into a light sleep, heart and thoughts and breath matching his husband’s perfectly.

Maedhros was exhausted, and he slept, too, until the Treelight faded and angled differently, and he woke perishingly thirsty but unwilling to move Fingon or himself.

Fingon sighed as he woke, unsure if he was awake or still sleeping. Russ? He whispered his husband’s name along their bond, not daring to move in case Maedhros still slept.

Maedhros answered with a kiss tracing his husband's beautiful brow, and fingers carding through his hair. "You slept well?" he asked, and looked around to determine the time, and how long they might have slept.

“Just like when I was very little and insisted that I would not sleep unless you were there to keep watch over me.” Fingon smiled up at him beautifully. “I’m feeling… more awake now. That helped a lot. And--” he paused and looked out the window, then back inside at how the pattern of light streaming in through the windows had moved. “I don’t think we’ve been asleep too long. Did you sleep? Oh! Are you feeling alright? You’re not hurt, are you? Do you need anything? Ice, water, more pillows?”

"No, no, I'm fine, hush," he told Fingon. "I'm very comfortable. I could use some water, though, when we get up. But I like lying here with you. Are you comfortable? Did _I_ hurt _you_ at all?"

Fingon shook his head. “Not at all. I’m feeling a little sore, I think from having you in me so long. And from finishing so often so fast. But I feel good.” He pressed a kiss to his husband’s chest. “Thank you for playing along. Sometime if you’d like I can be your little boy again.” He flushed faintly as he looked at Maedhros. “If you want. Right now, though, I’m in a state of bliss, having taken a relaxing afternoon nap with with my most beloved husband.”

"I do like it," Maedhros admitted. "So, sometime, yes. Ah, I love you," he sighed, hugging him. "I love this house, I love our family, I love this valley. Mainly I love you." He kissed Fingon's nose.

Fingon giggled at the kiss, hugging Maedhros. “As I love you. Hmm, what do you want to talk about while we lie here? Our Merelda tale? Our plans for the rest of the day? Dinner? What we think our families are getting up to? The book we were reading? Anything on Arda that you want.”

Maedhros scrunched up his brow. "I want to talk about--your hair, and how much I love it," he said, running his fingers through it. "And our merelda, and how Russ will have to save him from some sort of danger."

“He could get trapped out of water-- that probably isn’t good for mereldar. And he wouldn’t be able to move around well on land. His Elda will have to save him.” He grinned. “And my hair is beautiful because you work with it to make it so. Now yours, yours is radiant. It’s like gold with flames running through it, and so thick and long and beautiful-- your wedding plaits were amazing. Did I remember to tell you that day?”

Maedhros shrugged. "I think there were other things to worry about then," he said with a grin. He pursed his lips. "Ah, yes, poor Fin. Could he die from such a thing?" He squeezed his Fingon a little tighter in fear.

“It certainly wouldn’t be good for him-- I mean, merelda are clearly meant for water.” You know… tails. Fingon made a tail gesture, laughing. His eyes met Maedhros and he grew solemn, though his smile did not fade. “But I’m sure his Russ will save him. Russ would never let anything bad happen to him. And at the end of the day it will just be another exciting adventure to talk about as they curl up together, perhaps writing stories where they’re both merelda, or both Eldar, or both birds flying together on the wind.”

Maedhros laughed suddenly. "Story-writing within a story!" He hugged Fingon. "I don't want our Fin to be hurt. But--it does make for an exciting rescue." He brushed his lips over his brow.

“We can do that later, though. First they have to heal Russ, and learn to communicate.” His lips brushed Maedhros’. “First they have to fall in love.”

"I think our Russ will already be in love," Maedhros said, brushing hair back from Fingon's face. "How could he not be? And eager. He will have waited a long time for the other half to his fëa, and he will be hasty. Will Fin be hasty, too? Or will he be more measured?"

“He’ll be very eager,” Fingon said after a moment’s thought. “Though he’ll want to be careful-he’ll want to know that an Eldar is also born missing half of his or her fëa. And he’ll want Russ to be healed. He’ll need to know that Russ is thinking correctly and isn’t just… latching on to Fin because he’s there. Does that work? He’ll be sorely tempted to kiss him, though. He’ll want to as soon as he sees him, though of course he’ll wait until Russ is awake and wants to kiss him.” He grinned up at Maedhros. “Are you fully awake now? May I kiss thee?”

"As for me, Findekáno," Maedhros said, "you should never have to ask," he said, and kissed him. "Fin is wise, then. No wonder Russ falls in love. He'll have to excuse him for seeming desperate."

“He’ll want him far too badly to even notice,” Fingon promised. He grinned. “They should do this too-- just… lying together and sitting together. They should cuddle. And nap on each other sometimes.” He swallowed and licked his lips tentatively. “Would you like me to grab those waters for us? I’m getting a bit thirsty? And, is your back alright? We could move to the couch if you want… Russ?” Fingon scratched the back of his head. “When did we move off the couch?”

Maedhros laughed out loud. "Ahh," he said, "when I was so overcome with passion that I threw you on the floor and rutted into you like an animal?" He covered his eyes with his hand. "Yes, water, please. I might still be here. I might make it to the couch." He grinned sloppily. "I'll just be imagining Russ and his merelda lying together like this."

“A very pretty picture.” Fingon kissed Maedhros again before slowing standing. “And kindly refrain from calling my husband an animal.” He winked. “Surely no animal has the stamina or endurance he displayed this afternoon.” He moved off quickly, their bond affirming that he was already eager to be back. When he returned it was with glasses of cool water as well as a pitcher, all balanced on a tray he set on the end table next to the couch.

"Whatever I am, I don't deserve you," Maedhros, who at least sat against the couch, though he hadn't yet got up into it, said as he took the glass of water and drained it in one go. "Thank you." He opened his arms, inviting Fingon back into his lap where he wanted him.

"Welcome," Fingon answered with a smile. He set Maedhros' glass back on the table and slipped his arms below Maedhros' arms, lifting him onto the couch in a swift movement. Then he climbed onto his husband's lap as Maedhros' had intended. "I love you always. And you more than deserve me-- you're the most caring, loving, kind person I know." He squeezed them together in a quick hug. "Would you like another glass?"

"No, thank you. I'm all right for now." He wrapped his arms around Fingon and pulled him impossibly close in a tight embrace. "Just need you right now," he promised. "Mm, so warm," he said, wriggling comfortably against his bare skin. "So lovely to touch." He kissed Fingon's brow and cheeks.

Fingon giggled and cuddled close. "And yours. Don't forget that part." He slipped his arms around Maedhros' neck and sighed in contentment. "I never want to let you go. I'm afraid we must stay just like this for the foreseeable future."

"Oh, the horror," Maedhros said, overly sarcastic. "I don't know how much longer I can stand this." He squeezed Fingon tight against him.

"Should I move? I wouldn't want to horrify you." Fingon gazed up at him with wide, sad eyes and shifted as though he were preparing to move. "Perhaps not." He giggled and burrowed closer, burying his head against Maedhros' shoulder.

"If you moved I would cry," Maedhros threatened, and indeed his heart sank to his gut at even the thought of it. "Stay, my darling love," he whispered, rubbing his back as he held him.

"Of course. I promise." Fingon twisted his head slightly, planting kisses along Maedhros' neck. I was only teasing. I won't leave you. Well, we may have to move when we get hungry or when our limbs start falling asleep, but even then we'll be together. This is nice. Comfy. Love you.

"No, this is good," Maedhros said, kissing across Fingon's face and wrapping his legs around him for good measure. "Just want to stay like this. Love you," he murmured, petting him lazily. After a moment, "How would Fin get stuck on land?"

"Hmm... Do you have any ideas?  I suppose they could be traveling to Russ' home. Finn could be in a tank that broke? Or he could think a pool would be fine, but it could slowly be damaging him and they may not have another water source close by..." He shrugged. I don't know how it would work.

Maedhros squeezed Fingon close. "Those make me sad," he said. Never mind. "How about when Fin takes him swimming? He'd have magic to help him breathe water, and Fin would take him to visit places he likes to go."

Fingon nodded against him. "Whole forests and meadows underwater, plants constantly moving in the currents, and caves with air in them that you can only get to underwater. I'm sure he's explored up island streams and found beautiful waterfalls and cool, clear pools. And many other things, as well. We just need to think of them." He pulled back far enough to brush their noses together and kiss Russ. "We should write a little more this evening, if you want to. We could get through the storm and maybe Russ realizing his rescuer isn't an Elda." That will be quite a shock. Poor Russ!

Maedhros laughed. "Oh, it will, won't it? That could be funny." He grinned. "After he faints he'll probably be fine with it."

Fingon laughed. "Poor Russ," he reiterated. "I'm going to have fun writing them with you. Thank you!" He pressed their lips together in a gentle, pleased kiss.

"I'm going to have a lot of fun, too," Maedhros agreed when their sweet kiss was finished. "Oh, we also need to plan a thank you party for the family at our new home. I'm tempted to see how much the kitchen can handle."

"Anything you want," Fingon promised. "And I'm happy to help you in the kitchen any time you want." Fingon nudged him gently. "Of course, we need to eventually see the rest of the house and craft hall and surrounding area before we host a big party."

"Oh, gosh, you're right!" Maedhros cried, lifting his head. "Do you want to go now? I feel it's our duty to explore, but I'm quite enjoying this," he added with a grin and kissing Fingon on the nose.

"I'm… I'm enjoying this, if you're willing to stay. Did you want to lie down, or are you comfortable with me on you?" He ran a hand through Maedhros' hair as he waited for his answer.

"I'm impossibly comfortable here," Maedhros sighed, smiling. "Am I a comfortable bed?" He reached for the blanket on the floor and pulled it over Fingon.

“The best there is.” Fingon kissed Maedhros, helping to tuck the blanket around their shoulders. “How could I be less than comfortable with you here under me and around me? I’ve always loved being in your arms.”

Maedhros smiled. "As have I." He sighed and thought. "Have I asked you what your first memory of me is? I'd like to know, whatever you can think of."

“I don’t actually know when it was. I remember your face above mine, and your hair hanging down next to my head-- I reached out and grabbed it-- my hand was really, really chubby. Then I think you started to laugh and then I started smiling and laughing.” He grinned, tugging on his husband’s hair lightly. “I think that may be the first thing I can remember at all-- you’ve always been with me, always within reach.” And that, dear husband, is a very comforting thought.

"And so I shall always be," Maedhros vowed, kissing him sweetly. He pondered this for a moment. "Maybe this is why I like it when you pull on my hair," he decided with a giggle.

Fingon tugged on it again with a smile. “Tell me, arimelda, when were you first tempted to kiss me-- surely it was before the rockslide?”

"I kissed you as often as I like, as I should kiss my cousin," Maedhros teased, and then thought about the question carefully. "I think when you, ah, started to mature, physically. I could believe my love for you was purely familial. And then you began to grow, and you grew into something I could see myself loving in more ways, in every way. I think, when I first wanted to kiss you, you were not there. Macalaurë and I were on a beach, deciding which girls were prettiest. It wasn't that I had no interest in them, but--well, I began to realize that all my selections for prettiest nis on the beach were but pale imitations of you."

“I’m not sure if I should envy the girls for catching your eye first, or just be glad that you realized and that you waited for me.” Fingon was smiling fondly at him, and offered his husband a tender kiss. “I’ll be glad. Thank you. I love you. What happened next? I can’t recall which time you were out with Macalaurë that that would be-- I don’t, I don’t think I remember you looking at me differently after one of your trips.” He bit his lip, trying to think back to times when his cousins had returned singing of the sea and bringing piles of shells and pearls for him.

"I remember you came the next day," Maedhros said with a fond smile. "And my fears were confirmed: that I could have no one but you, whom I could never have. But you smiled and brought me a pile of seashells, and hugged me, and I kissed you as I always had, but my heart clenched that I could not kiss you as I wanted. For nearly twenty years every kiss was its own challenge. It's no wonder that I broke, really." He looked bashfully away. He used to be uncomfortable with this, but now he accepted it.

Fingon kissed his cheek and then his brow, pulling Maedhros into a close embrace. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Perhaps I do remember that-- or at least a similar time. I loved you then, as I always will. And already it was, as you said, more than just the love of kin.” He grinned. “But it was that too. Oh, and I’ve given you so many silly gifts over the years!” He rolled his eyes, thinking of shells and pearls, rocks and interesting gnarled sticks. “It was silly, but whenever I would see something beautiful or interesting or different I would think of you, and want you to see it and share in it.’

"Yes, and I always loved your gifts, no matter how small or insignificant." He ghosted his lips over Fingon's brow. "I must owe you a hundred."

“Pay me back in kisses, if you’d like.” Fingon grinned. “Only, to count as a new kiss each kiss must be in a different place. Is there anything else you wish to ask me?”

Maedhros giggled. "Yes, that sounds fair." He kissed him on one ear. "I would like to knooooowww," he said, thinking, "when you first loved me to want to kiss me as you did."

Fingon shivered, skin tingling pleasantly from the kiss. “I suppose I can’t say always. I… when did you first understand what it was to love as a lover? I know when I was barely walking you were my favorite cousin and I proclaimed that I would grow up and marry you. But as for understanding it…” He blushed, eyes darting away from Maedhros’ gaze and focusing on the corner of his mouth, his chin, his shoulder. “The first time I thought of me kissing someone-- really kissing someone-- I couldn’t imagine it would be anyone but you.” And he had promptly assumed he would never be kissed, excepting familial kisses from his kin. “I was… I was just starting to mature. I couldn't have been more than… Oh, I'm sorry, beloved. I couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen. And I thought you were the most beautiful thing on Arda-- your laugh, your smile, the way your eyes danced when we’d run off together finding new paths in the woods or perfect flowers in the fields.” Fingon shrugged, and looked at Maedhros’ sheepishly. “I not only loved you, but was in love with you before I rightly knew it. Over the years I only grew more certain that I was truly in love with you, that it was not something that would fade or change-- you'd stolen my heart when I was born and no other could compare. And the next time I saw you-- sliding off your horse almost before it stopped and running up to me, spinning me around-- I knew with more certainty that I knew anything I had learned in my lessons that the Elda you gave your heart to would be the luckiest being on Arda.”

"I remember that time. We could hardly let go of each other. I might have kissed you right then." He kissed him again, on the neck.

“You did kiss me… only not as I had dreamed about.” Fingon looked up at Maedhros. “And I did dream about it. That was alright, wasn’t it? I wouldn’t have done anything to harm our friendship, but… I couldn’t stop the dreams. You’d run up to me like that, and I’d wrap my arms around me and suddenly our lips would be pressed together-- neither of us sure who had started it. And we would each claim we had kissed first, and then we would laugh, and kiss again, and hold hands wherever we walked or ran off to for our next adventures hiking or climbing or swimming.” Fingon brought their lips back together, mimicking the chaste, sweet kisses of the first dreams. Were you dreaming of us as well?

"I dreamed about you all the time: and not always so innocently." He kissed his chin now.

“Tell me about one?” Fingon pleaded, cupping Maedhros’ face with one hand and rubbing his thumb along his husband’s cheek. “Please?”

"My dreams? My dream, let's see," Maedhros said, thinking back carefully, remembering. "I remember a starlit sky overhead, and a sea of people. I'm looking for you in a crowd, I keep seeing you, chasing you, and we're trying to get to each other: when suddenly you rise up over the heads of everyone. At first I think you're growing taller but you're flying, floating. I had this dream a lot but I always forget about the flying until it happens. And you reach me and take my hand, and I'm flying too and we embrace and laugh and kiss, with only stars and our hair, loose and impossibly long, around us. We're both naked but it's not--not a wet dream, I mean, there were those--it's just us. And we fly up through the stars that never end and--and when I wake up, I feel more rested than I ever feel." He rubbed Fingon's back. "How's that? It's rather boring now that I say it out loud."

"It's not boring at all. It's beautiful," Fingon assured him. "I like the idea of flying through the stars with you. Only, I'm afraid that one must remain a dream-- your fantasy is something beyond my power to give you." He squeezed Maedhros tightly, kissing his cheeks, his forehead, and his lips. "I suppose we could reenact the chasing part, if you want." Fingon paused again, considering. "We can do that the next time we go to our valley," he finally decided. "We'll do it at night, and there won't be a crowd, so that will be a little different. I'll jump in the water instead of flying, and then you can catch me-- that way it will sell end with us holding one another, suspended amongst tens of thousands of stars."

Maedhros shook his head. "No, it's very urgent finding you, and the crowd is important." He kissed Fingon's shoulder. "But I like to swim with you with our stars."

"Me too." Fingon agreed. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine flying, wrapped in Maedhros' arms. "Is that the first dream you had of us?"

"No," Maedhros answered. "Though I'm not sure which one was. When I was younger and you were still a child I would have nightmares that I would drop you or let you be hurt." He frowned and shivered.

Fingon's arms tightened around him. "You wouldn't. You always took wonderful care of me-- and you were always very gentle and patient. Remember-- you were the only person I would willing allow to do my hair, and I let you feed me anything you wished." He smiled and kissed the corner of his husband's mouth. "You were my protector and teacher and best friend. And whenever I'd get scraped climbing out of a tree or tripping you would clean the wound and bandage it and kiss it better. You kept me safe and happy and loved."

Maedhros blushed at the praise. "You were what I treasured more than anything. You still are." He kissed over one eye. "I love you."

Fingon hummed. rocking them slowly. "Inyë tyë-mela. And I adore you and treasure you as well." He rested his head on Maedhros' shoulder, humming few bars of their song. "You make me blissfully happy my dear husband." He sat back after a few minutes, leaning over to pour another glass of water. He took a sip and offered it to Maedhros.

"As do you, my love, my prince, my husband and dearest friend," Maedhros answered, and lifted his head to drink, letting Fingon hold the cup. He smiled as he lay back. "Fin will be very good with our poor ill Russ."

"He'll do his best. Though Russ will have strange things-- like legs and feet! So it will take some guessing on Fin's part." Fingon sighed. "Comfy still? Or can we go for a short walk out the top of the house to see what else is in the area? Our discussion is starting to make me feel adventurous!"

Maedhros laughed, squeezing him into a quick hug. "Yes, I could go for a walk I think," he said. "We've been lazing about enough all day." He grinned and sat up, lifting Fingon and kissing him again, this time on his throat.

"Lazing about? Is that what you're calling it?" Fingon shook his head, running his fingers through his husband's hair. "I think the hardest part might be just getting up." He sighed, smiled, and flopped against Maedhros. "I'm very comfortable right now."

"Well," Maedhros blushed. "More recently, anyway," he amended. "Admittedly beforehand it was very tiring work, all that _reading_ ," he teased, kissing Fingon and squeezing him. His muscles protested as he tried to move. "Oh, ugh, you're right. Let's stay here?"

“Are you alright?” Fingon shifted, hands tracing along Maedhros’ sides to his hips. “Do you want a hot pack? A cold pack? Warm tea?”

"Do you? You were the, ah--I'm just tired. I'm fine. Are you sore?" Maedhros asked, worried himself.

“I feel good. I feel… stretched. Yours.” Even the soreness feels good. He leaned in to kiss Maedhros. “You didn’t answer my question. I can run up to the kitchen and get you anything you need, or a salve if you need it. Or we can go up and get a fire going-- would that be good, sitting in front of a warm fire? Or go walking if you want to stretch out.”

"I think a walk would be nice," Maedhros decided, kissing and hugging him. "Sorry. Is that all right?" He stood up, groaning slightly, and helped Fingon to his feet.

“Of course. Stretching is probably a good idea.” Fingon grinned and let Maedhros guide him up. “Let’s head up to our room first-- shoes are likely a good idea for this. And maybe clothes.” He brightened. “If we put clothes on it means we get to take them off each other later.”

Maedhros laughed. "Yes! Clothes are wonderful like that," he teased, though he appreciated what Fingon meant. "Let's go!"

Fingon laughed, grabbing Maedhros’ hand and moving towards the door. “Come on,” he pulled him forward, quickly but carefully as they forced their sore bodies into their best semblance of graceful movement.


	18. Chapter 18

Once they were dressed and shoed they made their way out the front door, to walk along the cliff and study the house from the outside. "Mm, it's beautiful from this angle," he said, his arm around Fingon's shoulder.

“It’s gorgeous. I love all of it. But let’s go the other way-- we haven’t explored… well, anywhere really, but we haven’t seen what’s on this side of the gorge. Come on!” He bounced lightly on his heels in excitement and wrapped an arm about Maedhros’ waist, squeezing lightly.

Maedhros let himself be led, watching the beautiful scenery unfold around them. It's lovely here. You're lovely. I love you and love sharing this with you. He kissed Fingon's hair.

Fingon was half focused on his husband, glancing sideways at him in pleasure as they passed through a corpse of trees and found themselves at the top of an incline. “Russandol!” His arm squeezed around his cousin. The hillside was covered in flowers-- not small flowers, but rolling mounds that looked like waves of red, pink, white, purple, orange, and blue. The area they had emerged at was almost entirely red and pink. “They’re _gorgeous_!”

"Oh," Maedhros said, awed beyond words. The flowers literally covered everything, and were bright pink and red, the color of Fingon's lips and tongue. "Oh, my."

“Russandol? Darling?” Maedhros turned to look at him, eyes lingering on his lips. Fingon leaned up, brushing a soft kiss against him. He pulled back and grinned widely. “Will you frolic with me?”

"Frolic?" Maedhros repeated, laughing. "I do not frolic, I am firstborn of the house of Curufinwe Fëanáro. But for you, my beloved, I will frolic." He leapt forward suddenly and danced.

Fingon stared at Maedhros until his mind caught up with what was happening and he ran forward, arms wrapping around his cousin. "Russandol! And here I thought you didn't really dance!" He managed to get himself into Maedhros' arms, joining him in a wild dance that sent petals flying up around them. "Or frolic!"

"Not well," Maedhros said, moving as one who didn't care who was watching, so that his movements were more silly than anything, but carefree. He turned cartwheels in the flowers, blowing up sweet smells from his movements. "Is this enough frolicking for you?" he asked, slightly breathless.

“I could frolic with you for a hundred times a hundred days and still enjoy coming out here with you.” Fingon grinned at him, shaking his head. He launched himself at his cousin, laughing as they rolled into the flowers, red petals sticking to his husband’s hair. “You look… perfectly relaxed. Like when we were little and had spent an afternoon adventuring and came back with bright grins and pretty stones and twigs stuck in our hair.” He plucked a petal out, showing it Maedhros with a grin before he leaned down and offered his husband a kiss.

Maedhros laughed. "Only because you were always sticking things in my hair!" Maedhros laughed, though he was cut off by the kiss. "Ah, Findekáno," he moaned, wrapping his arms and legs around him as they kissed. "You are--exquisite."

Fingon shivered with the praise, pressing close to Maedhros. "I am but the reflection of my husband." He picked a perfect flower and tucked it into Maedhros' hair, sticking out his tongue. "There-- I'm still sticking things in your hair. And I only put the prettiest things in your hair-- you can't go blaming childhood gifts from the bramble on me!" Well, maybe on me since we were always running off together, but when our hair got tangled and our clothes dirty it was rarely on purpose.

"You know I like to wear my hair down because of you, right? You always liked to play with it, and I always like to make sure you can. I don't mind you sticking things in it." He licked Fingon's nose.

"Russandol!" Fingon laughed, rubbing at his nose and rolling them over so that a new group of petals flew up and Maedhros lay above him. "I love you. I love you so much! And you've always been wonderful to me-- thank you." He tilted his head to kiss Maedhros and raised both hands, burying his fingers in his husband's hair with a groan of satisfaction.

"Mm," Maedhros purred. "And I should mention that I love your hands in my hair." He kissed Fingon again.

That's good, Fingon thought happily. You may have mentioned it once or twice. He smiled, throwing a leg around Maedhros' waist and enjoying the solid weight of his husband. "Dare I even guess how many more beautiful surprises are waiting for us around here?"

"You are the only beautiful thing I ever need," Maedhros sighed, kissing him in earnest now. "All this, everything pales compared to you, my love."

Fingon pulled Maedhros' closer and surrendered to the kiss and to Maedhros. I love thee, thought fervently, swallowing hard at his husband's declaration. We have the most wonderful family-- as we keep seeing here-- but you, you are the greatest thing in my life. He smiled. And you're rolling around with me in a field of flowers! I'll draw this later-- paint it for us, even. He grinned when the kiss ended and rubbed their noses together. "This painting we could even put out where the family might see it, as we're both clothed and not in too disheveled a state. Yet."

"Oh, well, then I won't disrobe you as I planned," Maedhros teased, and grabbed his ribs and tickled him instead.

Fingon squeaked and giggled, swatting playfully at his husband. "Russ! Not fair! You're bigger than me!" He squirmed, trying to flip them over or gain another advantage.

"But you're just as strong," Maedhros laughed. "Now that you've come of age there's no excuse!" He almost lost his hold on him once or twice, but they continued wriggling and staining their clothes with pink flowers.

Fingon's mouth opened and closed. "You're still bigger! And you surprised me!" He changed tactics, and instead of trying to get away he moved close, arms and legs wrapping around Maedhros and holding tight. He bit down on Maedhros' neck, raising a dark mark against his skin before moving down slightly and beginning to work on a matching mark. "Oh, Russ!" He flooded their bond with images of Maedhros earlier that day, desperate and begging on the couch, unable to stop moving once Fingon had untied him.

"Ahm," Maedhros said, and, "oh." He was certain this was cheating, but he didn't want it to stop. Before he knew it his fingers had stopped tickling and he was melting against Fingon, groaning and kissing him.

Ooh! You-- you are perfect. Fingon was breathless, pressed against Maedhros and clinging to him, hoping to keep his husband from moving away. "You feel lovely, Russ." He took a deep breath and flipped them, straddling his husband grabbing his wrists. He pinned Maedhros' arms above his head and, before his husband started to react, leaned down to kiss him deeply, stalling any protest with lips and tongue.

"Ah--hhnh," Maedhros gasped, giving a cursory struggle, though he went limp under the assault of kisses. "You, ah, mm. You win?" He said with a grin, pupils dilating in lust.

"We win," Fingon offered with another kiss. "How I love you my one and only." Russ? Can we do something silly? I want to roll at least halfway down this hill, holding onto each other. And we can see how many petals we disperse. May we?

Maedhros laughed, holding him tightly. "Here we go!" he cried without giving it a second thought and started them rolling. He wasn't really watching anything but Fingon, so whether any petals exploded in their wake was anyone's guess.

Fingon laughed, clinging to his husband and letting the world spin around them. Then came to a stop three quarters of the way down the hill as they hit a small depression and rolled sideways, path curving. "That was fun. That was really fun. Let's bring Finderato and the boys and Nerwan here to do that sometime-- I think they would enjoy it." He pecked Maedhros on the lips and grinned at the flower filled mass of his hair. "Maybe I should apologize-- I'm not sure you hair was ever quite this… creatively restyled when we went adventuring as children."

Maedhros laughed. "We always rolled down hills like this!" He corrected. "At least this time it's lovely flower petals and not grass stains." He sat up carefully, dizzy from the spinning, and closed his eyes to center himself. "Woo, that might have been a bit too much fun for me. You all right?"

"Mhmm." Fingon tucked himself closer against Maedhros' chest. "Perfect. Well, perhaps a little thirsty?" He shrugged, unconcerned. "Shall we explore further this way, or keep heading along high ground?"

"We could go back and follow the river," Maedhros offered. "Some water would be nice. Now we know the area requires more exploration we can bring supplies. And, as you say, a young cousin or two. We'll bring your new baby brother or sister here," he reminded Fingon with a fond smile.

"Yes. I'd like them to love our home, to see it as a second home and a vacation home-- someplace happy and safe and filled with adventures and excitement." He squeezed Maedhros tightly before standing, offering his husband a hand up. "That sounds wonderful. And we can grab a few flowers as we head up-- I'd like them in the kitchen or in our room." Someday I'd like to come and collect a sheet full of red and pink petals. I'll trail them across our room and scatter them on the bed. You'll be able to follow the trail there, but you'll see that it goes on to our washroom. There will be candles and crystals lit throughout it, and the bath will be covered in a layer of red petals. And I'll be there, of course. Wearing nothing but jewelry in your family's color, and any dark red petals that cling to my skin as I stand up.

"Oh, Fin," Maedhros groaned. "Don't give it all away!" He kissed Fingon's cheek. "That sounds lovely. I look forward to it." And as he stood he plucked a flower and put it behind Fingon's ear. "The pink matches your lips exactly," he said, kissing them.

Fingon returned the kiss eagerly, smiling and blushing. "Thank you. And alright!" He laughed. "I won't give _everything_ away. But aren't you a little curious now? Or a little more than a little curious?"

"Of course I am. But I like surprises, especially from you," Maedhros said, pulling Fingon into a gentle spin while he gripped his hands tight.

"Then I shall have to keep finding ways to surprise you." Fingon laughed as Maedhros spun them and they managed to dislodge what looked like hundreds of butterflies. A vibrant blue insect landed on his husband's hair, and Fingon smiled at him. "You're wearing my colors, venno." He flashed an image of how Maedhros looked across their bond, squeezing his husband's hands.

Smiling, Maedhros responded by showing Fingon an image of himself, with thousands of tiny flower petals in his colors, and the pink that was the color of his lips and cheeks now. "You are perfect. My one and only. My lovely. My love." He stopped them spinning and tugged him into a kiss.

Fingon blushed, arms slipping around Maedhros' back and pressing them to ether. "I love you. I adore you." He closed his eyes, focusing on the arm body he was pressed against and the soothing rhythm of his husband's heart and the scent of flowers. He inhaled deeply and sighed. "I love you."

"And I you, my Light." Maedhros kissed his forehead. "Now, should we follow that river?"

"I'd like that. We can at least follow it a little ways. And it is nice to spend some time outdoors-- not that I didn't love everything we've been doing indoors." They kissed again before beginning to walk toward the river. Fingon leaned against Maedhros, arm around his waist and sides pressed close together. "I love adventuring with you. And frolicking and playing. Thank you for that-- for everything."

"Thank you also," Maedhros said. They reached the river quickly, took off their shoes and walked upstream in the water.

“Fin will be fun to have around in rivers and streams. They’d have to be a bit deeper than this, of course. But I bet he’d find all sorts of gems and beautiful rocks for Russ.” Fingon picked out a small, round stone made up of bands of different s hades of green. He turned it over in his hands before tossing it to Maedhros. “I bet if Russ knew certain rocks that could be cut into beautiful gems, he could teach Fin to recognize them. Mereldar would be able to see well underwater and stay at the bottom of the stream-- Fin probably has great eyesight, given his love of fishing, and he would be able to find bags worth of rocks for his friend.”

Maedhros took the stone gladly, placing it in his pocket. "Oh yes, he must. That would be nice." He squeezed Fingon. "But they cannot walk together like this, arm in arm," he mused, "and that is kind of sad."

Fingon tightened the arm he had around Maedhros. "It is. I dearly love walking like this with you… I suppose they will have to swim together instead. They could swim hand in hand or Russ could hold to Fin's neck, relaxing against his back while the merelda swims." He privately admitted that he liked the idea of smaller, slighter Fin becoming a creature of grace in the water and being able to move them both easily with his powerful tail. "They would look beautiful together in the water, arms and legs and fin entwined, red and black hair flowing together and laughter echoing through the air every time they breach the surface so that Russ can breathe."

Maedhros smiled again: "They would, wouldn't they?" he said, feeling better about it already. Fin would be very strong, even if he is smaller. I rather like that, Maedhros admitted with a blush. "How would they sleep together? I mean, on a permanent basis. I mean, actually resting sleeping."

"I imagine Fin could be out of the water for a few hours, but if the water was warm perhaps they could curl up together in the shallows? Russ could rest his head on his merelda's chest if he needed, to keep himself out of the water." He smiled, considering. "I imagine they would be curled up together-- Fin's tail could be curled around one of his husband's legs. Was there anything else you were imagining? Oh! And they'll eventually need a house built around and connected to a pool or stream. I imagine that would be important."

"Oh, yes, certainly important," Maedhros agreed. "It could straddle an inlet, or a big river, or it could float on a lake. Oh! A boat-house!" He grinned, liking the thought of this more and more. "And something to help Fin move about the house. Bars to climb on, perhaps, or a chair with wheels, even."

"Yes-- surely if anyone could help it would be Russ and his family. I'm sure they'll come up with the most efficient setup. Of course, in private I think Fin will enjoy having his Elda carry him around." He smiled up at his husband. "Care to play that part out right now?"

Maedhros grinned, sweeping Fingon into his arms. "Darling, you always know just how to please me most," he said, pressing their noses together as he kissed him. Fingon's weight against him was steady and comfortable, exercise without straining. "Mm, I love you," he said, though he climbed up onto the bank now, where the going was easier.

“As I love you, vennonya.” Fingon smiled, head turning as he continually glanced in front of them to see where they were going, and then back to watch Maedhros, who did not even appear to feel the weight of him. So strong, my love-- both physically and in character and fëa. You awe me.

Maedhros blushed. "I would carry you even if I suffered to do it. And you don't weigh so very much. Or else my love for you makes me feel lighter than air and stronger than a mountain."

“I think I like the latter possibility,” Fingon said with a smile. “That way, no matter where you are or what is happening you might be strengthened by our love and any worries you have or burdens you bear might be lifted from you.” I would give you that. I would do anything to help you-- and I swore so during our bonding night. He shivered pleasantly, remembering.

Maedhros squeezed Fingon tighter with a smile. "For that I thank you," he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for following along through Maedhros' and Fingon's many adventures! 
> 
> Their story continues in the short fic A Surprise at Home, in which Maedhros comes home to something he definitely did not expect. The first chapter of that tale is posted, should anyone be interested in it. :)


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